The Crime of a Secret
by Zavijah
Summary: Castiel, a forensic specialist, finds himself shaken after a man breaks into his apartment. The new detective to the department, Dean Winchester, doesn't want Castiel to be left alone in case the intruder returns. Destiel, a kitten, and an ex-boyfriend(Casifer). AU!Human.
1. Introductions

**Part I  
Introductions**

"Wow."

Castiel drew away from the microscope that had been keeping his attention for the past few hours. He was analyzing a series of samples taken from the boot imprint left at a kidnapping crime scene. The precinct was riding Castiel hard to find a clue that might point them in the right direction to locate the missing girl. The first twenty-four hours were always stressful as everyone worked around the clock on any and all potential leads. Castiel particularly hated the cases involving children. Sometimes he felt useless sitting in the lab all day analyzing evidence, but at the same time he was glad he wasn't one of the detectives that often had to deal more closely with the victims and perpetrators.

Even if Castiel preferred to keep a sense of distance from the people involved, he still wanted to help as much as he could. He'd skipped lunch today just to keep testing samples and comparing slides, which lead to the reason why Charlie - his long time friend and co-worker (the precinct's tech analyst) - was sitting in his work lab and munching on deli sandwich overflowing with alfalfa sprouts.

He'd promised her last week he would do lunch with her, but had called off considering the new case load on his desk, and as retaliation Charlie had showed up to spend lunch with him anyway. She was a good friend, and they had known each other long enough that Castiel's constant social faux pas didn't bother her. She wasn't the most socially graceful either, as she was pretty direct in her opinion.

"I bet you he's a total gym rat." Case in point.

Curiosity perked, Castiel rolled his stool around to view what Charlie was spying through the horizontal blinds. Outside, where the detectives kept their desks, Castiel could see there was a small gathering collecting in the middle of the room. Ellen Harvelle, their chief, was out there which lead Castiel to believe one of the higher ups had dropped by and the necessary ass kissing was commencing.

"Do you think he goes to a salon to get that tan?"

Sam, one of their resident detectives, stepped aside allowing Castiel his first glimpse at the newcomer. Instantly Castiel felt his scalp prickle and the tips of his ears burn when the first thing to pop in his mind was a single word: _handsome. _Charlie's jests weren't wrong. The man standing opposite of Sam and Ellen was nicely trimmed. The definition of muscles was lost under the layers of clothes, but the way the suit jacket set on the man's broad shoulders – the way the white dress shirt and tie followed a chest tapering into a narrow waist. Yeah, the guy probably did frequent the gym.

As for the bronze tone of the man's skin, "I think it might be natural.."

"No way," Charlie argued with a smile. "Totally spray-on tan."

"It is my understanding that people who use that method of tanning would resemble an oompa loompa as a consequence."

"With that kind of logic, it's a wonder you never became a detective."

Castiel grimaced, giving Charlie a grudging look. He knew she was teasing him. At least she had skipped the cultural reference he wouldn't be able to understand given the only channel he watched was National Geographic. Every blue moon he found himself dragged to the movie theater by a friend that claimed he needed to get out and socialize, but heck if Castiel could remember the names of the actors in the movies or even what the plot of the movie had been about. To him it seemed movies were one big long car chase scene with pyrotechnics and an intermission of sex scene somewhere in the middle. Altogether it didn't really interest him.

"I like things that make sense," Castiel lazily stated. "The samples I test don't lie, I don't have to figure them out. It's all very straight forward. I don't like dealing with people - they don't make any sort of logical sense."

Charlie smiled, like she always did, and no doubt she was making 'adorable' comments in her head about him. Castiel glowered at her a second longer - he wasn't _cute_ - then turned his attention back to the mingling officers. Ellen had retreated back to her office and Sam and the new man had moved over to Sam's desk. The man, honey haired and rocking one hell of a charmer's smile, was moving to sit the desk opposite of Sam. Castiel felt his brows lift in mild surprise, "It's Sam's new partner."

"Oooh," Charlie pursed her lips as her own eyes widened. The next moment she leaned in toward Castiel with an expression the forensic specialist had labeled as her 'gossip face'. "I guess they finally decided that giving him a female partner was a bad idea."

Castiel frowned. He didn't think poorly of Sam. The man was pleasant, hard-working, and dedicated to the job. Yet he seemed to have a problem keeping the bedroom and work separate. There had been rumors that Sam had been intimate with his last two partners. It was just hearsay, but Castiel found it hard to argue against when he had witnessed plenty of tender exchanges between the detectives. First there had been Jess, a pretty blonde with an easy smile - she had died in a fire while trying to reach a trapped Sam. Then there had been Ruby, a cocky brunette with lips that had bothered Castiel because of their puffiness. She had been shot a few months back when she had followed Sam into a unsecure scenario. The wound had been fatal.

It almost made Castiel feel inclined to worry for the newcomer.

The other detectives were wandering over to greet Mr. Crest Award Winning Smile. Senior Detective Bobby Singer was there, hands in his pockets and giving the two younger officers the typical stare down to establish who was in charge. A display of dominance, much like the ones Castiel had seen between animals on tv. Bobby was like the old silver back gorilla that had been the alpha male for years. Age gave him experience, and the rest of the troop trusted him, and no one ever stepped up to challenge him more than the occasional shouting match.

Enter the young, fertile female gorilla...

Castiel's head canted as he watched Jo (Joanna) arrive and stick out her hand to the new detective. The smiles, and the slight wandering of eyes, shared between to the two were obvious signs of interest. Castiel inwardly winced and snuck a side-long glance at Charlie. His friend was frowning but said nothing. Castiel knew that lunch was not the only reason Charlie visited him. He'd noticed his friend's wayward glances at the Jo from time to time, but from what he could tell Jo was strictly heterosexual.

"Jo has someone new to make eyes at.. "

Charlie flinched.

"Sorry," Castiel spoke with his chin tucking in toward his chest. "I know you–"

"It's fine," Charlie turned away from the window with a nonchalant shrug. "I once asked her if she wanted to marathon Lord of the Rings with me and... yeah. I don't think I need to tell you how awful that went."

Castiel, too, shifted away from the window. He had a single brow arched at his friend, "You didn't tell me you tried asking her out."

"Well I didn't exactly want to re-live my epic fail. I'm sure you can relate to that."

Sadly he could, one too many times to count. His lastest failure in life had come when he tried to ask their ADA (Assistant District Attorney) Balthazar, out for drinks. He actually hadn't gotten as far as asking the man out. He had awkwardly stumbled over his words trying to say something witty about the origin of the man's name. Castiel still wasn't even sure what he had said that day, only that Balthazar had given him an amused smile - said 'aren't you a dear' in that wonderful British accent that had the power to make Castiel melt - and had walked away.

"Hey," Charlie's foot nudged the leg of his stool. "Speaking of movies, you and me, this weekend."

Castiel barely held back on the groan, "I don't know–"

"Oh come on! Don't give me that 'I'm busy with work' excuse. You ditched me the last two times and do I need to remind you what happened the last time I went alone?"

_No_, Castiel thought to himself, but knew Charlie was going to elaborate regardless.

"Ten freaking guys, Castiel. _Ten _guys, and not even good looking guys, hit on me before I even got in the theater. I swear a couple of them were trying to follow me after the movie was over. So come with me, let them think you're my boyfriend and let's see a movie."

She hadn't broken out the begging 'please' yet, so Castiel stubbornly held out for the time being. He knew he should get out more, but being out among people made his skin crawl after days of staring at evidence that helped track down murderers. He began to look at everyone as if they were potential suspects and hell, he was only the forensics guy, not a detective. Castiel didn't need that kind of paranoia in his life. Yet it had crept over his life all the same. Ever so slowly he became more of a recluse that was hyper aware, and thus paranoid, of his surroundings.

One day he had woken up to realize he constantly peeked out his window to monitor the activities in his neighborhood.

"And this is Castiel Novak, one of our forensic analysts."

Castiel felt his stomach backflip before belly-flopping somewhere near his toes. His blue eyes shifted just enough to look back out the blinds to affirm his growing fear. It had sounded like Sam's voice speaking the introduction, and sure enough the two desks the detectives had been sitting at were empty. Castiel straightened his posture before slowly spinning to face the men in the door. He didn't attempt to speak, not when new detective had that dazzling smile directed at him. The world around Castiel faded until he was only aware of the dusting of scruff along the man's jaw, the full lips, and eyes that were amazing - green; the color was sea-green.

Despite Castiel's staring, Sam continued the introduction tour. "And this is Charlie Bradbury, our tech specialist."

"Yo," Charlie raised a hand in greeting.

Castiel still had yet to figure out how to form a word as simple as a hi.

"So these are the lab rats, eh?" The man jested, his smile shifting into a crocked grin as he looked over at Sam, obviously thinking what he said had been funny.

Sam gave a thin smile before gesturing toward chucklehead, "This is Dean Winchester, my new partner."

Castiel felt his little high crash and burn when it fully sunk in that Dean had just made a joke at his and Charlie's expensive without even bothering to introduce himself. It was always the guys with the good looks that turned out to be total jerks. Castiel didn't bother to give the name acknowledgement. He turned his seat back toward Charlie, dismissing the two in the doorway to continue his conversation with his friend.

"You were saying something about going out this weekend?"

Charlie's brows shot up in surprise, "You're in?"

Castiel nodded his final answer. His decision _may_ have something to do with wanting to show the man in the door that he wasn't a loser, or just some _lab rat_. He was cool. You know, went out with people and did stuff.

"I always love when two nerds find each other," Dean mused.

Castiel's confidence sank, but he did well not to show it. He settled an irritated look on Sam. It was the same look he settled on the detective when he was bogged down with work and the man tried to pop in to ask a quick favor. Castiel did not have time to halt his mountain of work to keep doing quickies for the young detective. He would have to submit it and wait for results like everyone else. It had taken a while for that particular look to have the desired effect. It was working now, as Sam spared an apologetic smile before gently easing Dean out of the doorway.

"I'll show you to the rest of the team."

Once they were gone, Charlie broke the silence. "I really don't like men sometimes - no offense."

"None taken," Castiel replied flatly and returned to his microscope to hide the defeated look he knew to be hinting in his eyes. He heard Charlie standing and rolling her chair under the table but didn't grace her with a look. When she voiced that she was leaving and she'd give him a call tomorrow, Castiel hummed in acknowledgment.

He did glance up to watch, through the blinds, as she walked out of the precinct - giving a small wave at Jo before she left. He glanced at the new detective, Dean Winchester, as him and his partner Sam settled back at their desks to discuss whatever it was that detectives chattered about - it certainly wasn't conversation about the dirt and plant slides Castiel was currently laboring over.

Green eyes turned, chancing to meet Castiel's staring gaze. A flush began to creep up Castiel's neck as he realized that he had been staring at length at the new comer. He reached forward and abruptly shut the blinds so he could no longer see the milling detectives. He needed to concentrate on his work.

_**Things to Know:**__  
1.) Sam and Dean are not brothers in this fic, but being detective partners is close enough.  
2.) I wanted to shake up the usual pairings a bit, thus we have Charlie (season 7) as Castiel's good friend.  
__**3.) Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the characters.**_

_**A/N:**__ This story will be much more relaxed on the plot than my other story, A Mask Like Any Other. More fun, silly, and destiely with a side of my favorite plot device, Lucifer. Later there is even a kitten, what more could a story need? Ahem. This is my third attempt at posting this story. Fanfiction likes to eat it for some reason and I've already lost 3 reviews and 2 follows because of this problem. Let's hope third time is a charm.  
_


	2. Intruder

**Part II  
Intruder**

Friday evening, Castiel's work followed him home.

Balancing two paper bags full of groceries from the corner stop a couple blocks down the street, Castiel struggled to keep his cell phone propped between shoulder and ear while crouching low enough to pushed the four on the elevator panel. His tongue edged out between his teeth in concentration. The four illuminated to show his success and once the metal doors closed, Castiel returned to his conversation. "I thought you said you wanted to go see a movie."

_"I did - but I changed my mind."_

Castiel frowned as he tried to check his watch from around the girth of the bags in his arms. "You can't just change plans at the last minute."

_"Sure I can! It's called free will and Cas, live a little, would you?"_

"You know I don't like clubs..." Damnit, where did he put his keys.

_"Caaaass."_

He grumbled while juggling both bags in one arm and one uplifted leg, and dug through his pockets to find his keys. He lost his cell phone in the process, grimacing as it tumbled to the hallway carpet. "Charlie–"

_"It's just this once!"_

"Charlie hold on."

_"I'll never, ever, ask you to go again."_

"Charlie I dropped my phone," Castiel yelled down at the floor while his fingers finally touched against the keys in his back pocket. "Just hold on a sec."

The rambling continued from the other line, most of which Castiel couldn't understand apart from it sounding like a high pitched whine. He brought the correct key to the lock of his apartment door, only to find it swinging open when he bumped his foot against the bottom rail. His heart instantly leaped into his throat. He knew for certain that he had closed and locked his door earlier that morning. He had worked long enough with police to know that having it open upon returning home was a bad sign.

He also knew that walking inside was something people were warned against doing.

Like a moron worried about his material possessions, Castiel cautiously crept inside his apartment. It was quiet aside from the small voice he could hear coming from his iphone in the hall. The groceries were left on the threshold and armed with little more than the keys fisted in his palm, Castiel flicked on the lights. The sight greeting him sent chills down his spine. His living room had been completely over turned. The couch was thrust against the far window with the cushions sliced through and flung across the room. His lamps laid broken on the carpet. The tv was smashed on the floor.

The worse of the mess came from the bookshelves. It made Castiel sick thinking about how much he had spent finding a good set of wooden book cases (not to mention how awful it had been moving the heavy oak cases up to his fourth floor apartment). The dividing shelves were broken and his books were strewn across the floor. Some had even been torn in half down the spine - who even took the time to do that? It was like someone had let loose a pack of wild dogs in his room. Utter chaos.

A crash from the his bedroom made him freeze.

Panic flooded his system and Castiel couldn't move. His mind was going a hundred miles a second and the majority of the thoughts involved the word Shit. _Shitshitshit_. A cold sweat dampened his collar and the indecision of what to do was making his hands shake. He had to get out of there - but he was too scared to move less the intruder heard him and came out of the bedroom. He needed to call the police but his phone was all the way out in the hall. The shaking worsened.

He stalled too long, because from the bedroom emerged a figure and as plain as Castiel could see the man - the man could see Castiel. An angry stride was taken to start closing the distance. Castiel's body finally made up its mind. The answer was to flee. Sadly it was a solution arriving too late, because Castiel wasn't fast enough to escape. He soon found himself tackled to the floor, the breathe nearly knocked out of him. His phone was there though. If he could just reach it—

"Where is it?" The man demanded as he seized Castiel's arm that was vainly reaching for the iphone.

Castiel bit down a pained yelp as he felt his arm being twisted behind his back, angling up toward his shoulder blades to make it a sharp, searing hot pain. "I d-don't know."

"Where!?" Another painful twist and this time something cold and metallic touched against the back of his neck. Whether it was a gun, or the flat edge of a knife, Castiel couldn't tell.

"M-money is in the - in the c-coffee jar."

Apparently that wasn't what the man was after, because he added a knee against Castiel's spine. He was repeating his demand but Castiel could scarcely hear him over the pain wracked sound bursting from his lips.

"Hey Castiel," A new voice, and Castiel craned his neck up to see his neighbor, Chuck, appearing in his open door. "I don't normally complain or anything, but you're being really loud and I'm trying to work..." The last few words to leave Chuck's mouth were slow and trailing as he finally bothered to look up to see the two men grappled on the floor. His blue eyes widened, "Sorry... I uh, didn't mean to uh - to interrupt—"

"Call the police!" Castiel managed to hoarsely shout.

Chuck ran for his own apartment and a second later the man pinning Castiel to the floor fled through the open door. Castiel pulled his aching arm to the front of his chest and hugged the limb. The previous shake had moved from his hands to rack his entire body. Castiel curled in on himself, covered his face with both hands and was thankful he didn't automatically burst into tears.

From the threshold Castiel could hear Charlie's voice.

_"Cas? Cas!? What is going on!? Cas if you're there I've already sent an alert to the department. Cas? Cas!"_

An hour later Castiel sat at his breakfast counter and was cupping a mug of tea Sam had set in front of him. He didn't sip at it, just held the warm mug between his palms and prayed the heat would reduce the remaining trembles. It was more of twitches now, because Castiel had two officers, a lab tech, Sam, and his new partner rooting through his apartment. Castiel had never had more than one person in his apartment at a time. Even then his company was confined to the living room or the kitchen that were usually in perfect order. Now five strangers were poking and prodding through every inch of his private life and Castiel was rattled more by this than the fact he had been assaulted earlier.

Sam was at least sympathetic, because he noticed the flinching Castiel did as the officers manhandled his book collection and excused himself to supervise their work; mainly to stop them from damaging the books any further.

"So did you get a good look at him?"

Castiel's blue eyes lifted to Dean as the man stepped in to fill in Sam's vacated position, "Not - not really."

"Anything at all?"

It was a gentle tone - friendly, and quite a bit different than the way Dean had talked to him at the precinct. Castiel found himself staring at the odd transformation. Maybe, he thought with a frown, Dean didn't recognize him without the lab coat. There didn't seem to be any recognition in Dean's eyes as those green orbs flicked up from the notepad in curious regard. Castiel realized he was staring, again, and quickly spit out the first words to come to mind. "He was big."

Colored touched at Castiel's cheeks as Dean arched a brow at him, "Big as in.. ?"

"Body type," Castiel's gaze dropped and he busied his fingers with the mug between his hands. "He was... bigger than me. Dark hair and... I d-don't really know. He had me pinned face down on the floor..."

"Yeah, I can tell, it looks like you had some rough floor sex."

Castiel's could do little more than stare wide-eyed at a grinning Dean. After a few seconds, of Castiel failing to laugh or do whatever the detective was aiming to accomplish, Dean coughed down toward his chest and focused his attention back on the notepad. "Well seeing as you already gave your best description to the officers, let me ask, you share the apartment with anyone?"

Castiel shook his head.

"What about spare keys, maybe gave one to a girlfriend or...?"

Another shake of head from Castiel.

"What about Charile?"

Castiel's head shot upright, surprised that apparently Dean did remember him from earlier that morning. Once again Castiel felt his face begin to flush with embarrassment, "No. No, Charlie is just a friend."

"She have a boyfriend?"

That question felt like a kick to the gut, and Castiel's shoulders began to slump. He narrowed his eyes on the detective, "Are you trying to ask me if she's available to date?"

"What? No," Dean hands flinched but his expression remained well guarded. "I was asking because if she's got one, he might be jealous of the friendship you have with her."

Oh. Right.

Castiel shook his head while leaning over the counter to hide his face in an upraised hand, "Sorry. I didn't meant to accuse... I'm just a bit shaken still."

"About that..." Dean tapped pen to notepad, earning Castiel's blue eyes peeking through splayed fingers. "You have someplace to go, or maybe someone to come over to keep you company? We'll see about getting a unit posted outside, but I think you'd feel better if you weren't alone tonight."

Castiel debated whether or not he wanted to ask Charlie to stay the night. They were friends, true, but he knew she wouldn't want to come over unless she could bring her laptop. The woman was something of a night owl, especially on weekends, and Castiel just wanted to spend the night alone in his quiet room. It'd feel weird to be laying in bed knowing Charlie was sitting awake on the couch tapping away at a keyboard. She did that often enough when they went somewhere for lunch, and the constant tap tap tap of keys reminded him of rats in the wall; gnawing, _gnawing_, and Castiel didn't have the tolerance for it.

He toyed with the idea of calling his older brother, Michael, but tossed the idea aside. Him and his brother hadn't parted on good terms after the whole fiasco with Lucifer. It didn't help that the way Castiel had ended up coming out to the family about his sexuality was due to being caught in the basement of his parent's house with his pants around his ankles and his dick in his then boyfriend's mouth. Yeah, that didn't go over well at Thanksgiving Dinner.

Lucifer had teased about just showing how thankful he was..

Castiel's felt his ears burn with the memory. He brought the cooled tea up to his lips while muttering. "I'll be fine by myself."

"Alright," Dean responded unconvinced, "Do you have a gun at least?"

"No, I don't like guns."

Dean scoffed, "You live in the city and don't own a gun for protection?"

"I have pepper spray," Castiel weakly argued.

"Dude, women carry peppery spray," Dean mocked, "and honestly that shit doesn't work as well as it should. It's like pepper spray for bears, all it's going to do is piss it off."

"Well good thing I don't have to worry about bears," Castiel glared, his tone edging toward a graveled growl.

"No, just people who have guns."

Castiel's fingers tightened on the mug, "Detective, I don't believe it is your job to berate the victim of a crime."

"It is when said victim works in a crime unit and knows better."

Green and blue gazes clashed, fighting for dominance and both men too stubborn to give in to the other. Castiel was mildly surprised when Dean finally looked away, sighed, then grumbled out the following words, "Look, just be sure to lock up and Ellen has already said you can take the weekend off."

Dean reached into his breast pocket and laid a contact card on the counter near Castiel, "If anything happens, give me a call. I'll be swinging by tomorrow to bring you into the station so you can give an official report on the break-in and whether or not anything was taken."

Castiel reached for the card, but stopped when Dean noticed the bruising around his wrist. The detective pushed back the cuff of sleeve to better view the damage. "You didn't show the paramedic that."

"It wasn't important," Castiel grumbled while wiggling his wrist back into the sleeve.

Dean gave him an unimpressed look then, before Castiel could even guess what the man might be thinking, he seized Castiel's wrist and gave the appendage a firm squeeze. Castiel's lips parted in soundless show of pain and he quickly pulled his arm from Dean. The next moment he was glaring furiously up at the detective.

"Save the bullshit for someone else," Dean grunted. "Put some ice on that and if it's not better by the time I'm back tomorrow, we're taking a side trip to the hospital for an x-ray."

Castiel continued to glare while ruefully rubbing at his wrist, "Do you normally treat people like this?"

Dean grinned, much to Castiel's chagrin. "I figured Sam could be the good cop and I could be the bad one."

"Unbelievable."

Just like that Castiel was left at the counter, shaking his head as he watched the cocky detective strut away to talk with the officers. Castiel frowned, heavily. Shortly afterward he grabbed his iphone, kicked the lab assistant out of his bedroom and locked everyone out of the bedroom. He sat on the foot of his bed, just staring at the clothes spread across the floor as if it was little more than garbage. He'd once read about how personal break-ins felt to the victim - to have their personal life rooted through, torn and trashed with such disregard. It never seemed like a big deal until he sat there, his place of home violated, and strangers pawing through his belongings.

He honestly felt like crying.

Castiel turned on his phone and scrolled through his contacts. His thumb hovered over Lucifer's name. He probably should have deleted his ex-boyfriend's number months ago, but for one reason or another he didn't. Thinking better of his actions (calling an ex-lover while feeling vulnerable was never a wise decision) Castiel scrolled back up his list to find Charlie's name and hit send.

As soon as the line picked up on the other end, Charlie started in on him. Castiel sighed, hanging his head while rubbing at his temple. "I'm fine, honest, I'm just waiting for everyone to leave so I can clean up the mess... No, you don't need to come over... Really. I'm fine."

He repeated that phrase several times during the conversation. _I'm fine._

He wasn't.

* * *

_**Thing To Know:  
**__1.) Castiel's family gets too big if we include all the angels, so in this fic his only sibling is Michael. I was tempted to make it Gabriel, but it's always Gabriel. I wanted more of a chance to explore the character of Michael.  
2.) Lucifer is Castiel's ex-boyfriend, because I'm not good at resisting slashing them. He was going to be Jo's detective partner. Wouldn't that have been a hoot? He also wasn't going to be in the fic at all, how horrible.  
3.) I change my mind a lot._

_**A/N:**__ I'm so happy that my story is working and not getting eaten by some bizarre story error that I've posted this chapter the next day! I may have lost reviews/follows because of the error, but wow you guys adding me to favorites and following has been awesome! Thank you so much guys! :D !_


	3. Call Me

**Part III  
Call me**

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the last officer left with the assurance that they would make hourly checks of the perimeter. As it turned out the precinct didn't have enough cops to park a unit outside his apartment complex all night. It didn't bother Castiel too much. As soon as the front door closed, and locked, Castiel turned to the mess in his living room with a sigh. He started with setting a lamp back on the sleek end table next to the couch. It was his favored reading spot - or used to be. The thought of curling up on the end of the couch just made him feel exposed.

Castiel immediately closed all the curtains, locked the windows, then busied himself with fixing the bookshelves and picking up the books. When he laid out on the couch, and not his upended bedroom, his living room was in a partial state of order. Castiel had vacuumed the broken glass from the busted television and shattered coffee table. The cushions of the couch were ruined, but for the time being Castiel had flipped them over so he didn't have to see the stuffing peeking out from inside. He'd been able to fix most of the book shelves and arrange his books on the floor to deal with later.

He hugged one of the couch pillows to his chest and stared up at the ceiling from where he laid on the couch. Now that he had stopped working, the silence in the apartment became stifling. A car alarm was blaring outside on the street and Castiel had the urge to go peek out the curtain to see what was going on. At the same time he was afraid to be seen looking, thus the man did little more than turn his head toward the pulled curtains.

A door somewhere down the outside hallway slammed, making Castiel flinch.

He turned onto his side and pushed the small pillow to the side of his face to try and muffle the outside noise. He thought about finding his ipod and ear buds - but the sudden fear of not being able to hear someone try to break into his apartment detoured the thought. Dean was right, Castiel should have asked someone to stay over. Was it too late to ask Charlie?

His watch read 4:37 am.

Yeah, definitely too late – or early, depending on how he looked at it.

Castiel's gaze flicked to the breakfast counter where he'd left Dean's card. He debated half a second before crawling off the couch and retrieving the card and phone. He actually had the number dialed and sending before he realized what he was doing. Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear, his thumb descended to cancel the call.

And then he answered.

_"Winchester."_

The voice husky and laced with sleep. Castiel stared at the touch screen but said nothing.

_"Hello? ... Anyone—"_

Castiel hung up. Several seconds later his phone vibrated and the number Castiel had just dialed to call Dean flashed on the screen. His heart began to race and he ignored the call. Not a minute passed before his phone rang again. Castiel contemplating turning it off and stuffing it under the couch cushion. He stared at the number, chewing on his bottom lip, and at the last available second he hit accept.

_"Hey, you know your number shows up when you call other people, right? Now who is this?"_

Castiel felt his features flame up in embarrassment. It actually didn't dawn on him that once calling Dean, the detective would have his number. Castiel blamed it on the early hour and the fact he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep. Still, he should probably, you know, say something.

_"If you're in trouble, try banging on something to let me know and I'll get a trace on your number. Okay?"_

It would only make sense that anyone Dean had ever worked with on a case would have the same number. Castiel wondered if the man would be annoyed knowing Castiel had woke him up for no reason.

_"Come on, I need something — Ben if that's you, this is really not the time to play jokes."_

"N-no. It's uh..."

_"Who is this?"_

Castiel swiped his free hand over his face, "Sorry. I didn't mean - didn't mean to wake you."

_"Like hell you didn't. Now tell me what's wrong."_

Swallowing heavily, Castiel tried to force the lodged words out of his throat. Castiel barely got a syllable out before he hung up and tossed the phone on the other end of the couch. He stood up and stalked to the bathroom to take a shower just so he wouldn't feel compelled to answer the phone if it rang again. He locked the bathroom door for good measures before turning on the shower full blast and stripping down.

Forty minutes later he was tying off his bathrobe and cautiously edging toward his front door where someone saw it fit to bang on his door at five in the morning. Castiel stopped at the breakfast counter, watching the chain lock jingle against the jamb. What he wanted to yell was _go away!_, what came out was an uncertain "Who's there?"

"Candygram."

Castiel's brow furrowed, "I don't - I don't want any Candygram."

There was chuckling heard on the other side of the door, deep and masculine. "Open the damn door."

That voice sounded naggingly familiar, and Castiel found himself drawn to the door to peer through the peephole. Out in the hall stood Dean, freshly dressed and holding two Styrofoam cups from Starbucks. Castiel's heart nearly knocked against his ribs with how hard it was suddenly pounding in his chest. "Y-you're early."

The man on the other side of the door grinned, the expression exceedingly wide through the contour of the peephole. "You're the one that called and woke me up. Now are you gonna open up or do you want to continue this conversation through the door?"

Remembering how sensitive his neighbor Chuck was to noise, Castiel grumbled and unlatched the three locks - knob, deadbolt, and finally the chain, and pulled the door open a quarter of the way. "How'd you know it was me that called?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean purposely pitched his tone low, graveling it in mockery of how Castiel's voice sounded. Dean chuckled and pushed the door open the rest of the way with his shoulder. His green eyes flicked down the front of Castiel's robe in passing. One of the coffees was set on the counter while Dean sipped from the other. "So, something on your mind?"

Castiel curled his fingers into the blue fuzz of his robe and curled it more protectively around his body. "No. I just... it was nothing."

"You missed me so much you just wanted to talk, huh?"

Castiel grit his teeth against the embarrassment threatening to color his face from the neck up. "No that is not–"

"I'm jerking your chain, man," Dean had a very soothing tone, even if he did throw in a wink at the end. "I'm guessing you didn't sleep last night."

The silence said it all, and Castiel didn't know why he couldn't admit the little truth. It made him feel like an idiot, especially so in front of the confident detective in front of him. The man was nonchalantly leaning against the counter while Castiel stood awkwardly in the bathrobe. The way Dean just exuded self-confidence made Castiel feel naked in comparison. He frowned, ran his fingers through his damp hair and took an awkward step toward his bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed..."

Dean stepped in front of him and Castiel froze on the spot. Castiel swallowed thickly, all too aware that at this proximity he could smell the detective's aftershave; woodsy, a bit of spice. In a lowered tone, that did little to dissuade Castiel's nervous state, the man spoke, "We're going to talk about this, Cas. Understand?"

Not trusting his own voice, Castiel quickly nodded and retreated to his room.

Six o'clock found Castiel seated awkwardly in the booth of a diner that offered breakfast around the clock. Dean sat across from him, resembling a overly excited child as he indulged in dessert for breakfast. The pie was apple, and judging purely off of Dean's facial expressions, Castiel was guessing it tasted like heaven itself. Castiel nursed a cup of black coffee while he pushed as far against the wall as possible so he wasn't near the aisle.

"When you said breakfast, I thought it meant you wanted eggs and bacon."

"Don't be jealous, you had your chance to order something good and all you wanted was coffee."

Castiel frowned as he glanced toward the window looking into the kitchen. The cook that had worked the graveyard shift didn't look like anyone Castiel wanted to trust cooking his food. There had been this one case he read about where a disgruntled cook, a pre-release man with a rap sheet a mile long, had poisoned all of his morning customers. A child had died. After reading the article, Castiel couldn't bring himself to trust these cheap, dimly lit diners.

Dean, having observed the nervous action, set his fork down. "You're really shaken, huh?"

Castiel's storm blue eyes swiveled back to the detective. He frowned, then let his gaze fall to his coffee. "It's... It's more like the straw that broke the camel's back."

"You don't look broken to me."

The reassurance earned a crooked smiled that quickly waned, "I use to love running in the mornings. I'd go through the paths in the park... then there was the woman that was found in the bushes... and then the little boy in tunnel. I don't run anymore."

Dean's fork made uncertain circles around the pie plate.

Castiel watched the pronged end and plowed on ahead with his thoughts that were quickly gaining momentum. "Then there was the bank shooting - I do online billing for everything now. The theater shooting - I don't want to go anymore, but Charlie tries to drag me at least once a month. Don't get me started on taxi's and –"

"You're paranoid," Dean simplified.

Castiel's chin tucked in toward his chest in a defensive reaction. Immediately he regretted saying anything to the detective. "Not without reason."

Dean merely smirked and idly tapped his fork against his plate, "Ever think you're in the wrong line of work?"

It was a logical question, but only served to make Castiel's heart sink. He drew his sleeves over his hands and pushed them into his lap while glaring at the table top. "Even if I didn't work with the law force, I would still read all this in the newspaper unless you are going to advise I stop reading the paper."

The detective merely grunted, "I guess you have a point there."

"I like being able to help. I may not be able to do your job but... I help, if only that little bit."

"I believe you. Sam says you're the best they have."

Castiel lifted his head in earnest, "He does?"

"Yeah," Dean gave one of those easy smiles that Castiel couldn't decipher as genuine or just very well practiced. "Also says you're a little odd, but everyone seems to like you well enough."

Castiel was tempted to ask if Dean was included in on that everyone. He mentally kicked himself for the very thought. He turned his gaze aside, "I see."

"I think..."

For a brief, panicked moment Castiel feared he had spoken his internal question out loud. His throat tightened, and his breathe stilled in his chest.

"... it's a bad idea to leave you alone in that apartment."

Slow exhale, "Well unless you're offering to stay over..."

It was Dean's turn to look a little caught off guard by the question. He nervously cleared his throat. "That wasn't what I had in mind."

Disappointed, again, Castiel propped his elbow on the table and cradled the side of his features into his sleeve covered palm. He arched a questioning eyebrow at the detective. Dean merely smiled, green eyes twinkling in mischief that Castiel did not trust for a second. He doubted he could talk Dean out of whatever mayhem he was plotting. Thusly he frowned in disapproval, "I will be sure to keep my door locked, Detective Winchester."

"Have I mentioned that among my extensive skill set, kicking a door open is among them?"

The frown deepened, "I feel my place of home has suffered enough damage from intruders that you don't need to be further subtracting from the security deposit I have on the place."

Dean mirrored Castiel's position of propping his chin up on an upturned palm. He leaned over his arm, the motion entirely challenging as he locked his sea-green eyes on Castiel's storm blues. "Then you best just open the door for me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes a touch, "Don't you have better things to do than torment me?"

"I told Sammy I'd be on call if he needs me."

"You call him Sammy?"

"Yeah, he hates it - it's great."

Castiel dropped his hand to the table top, his nose wrinkling. "You have a strange perception of how to get along with people."

"No one has opposed my methods yet," The detective stood from the table, his fingers sliding just short of touching against Castiel's relaxed hand. Castiel had noticed, and when his gaze flicked up to Dean's face, the smile told him that the move had been intentional. Castiel snapped his gaze back forward, studying the vacated booth seat opposite of him. Dean chuckled as he fished out his wallet, throwing a pair of bills on the middle of the table to pay for the pie and coffee.

Castiel's cheeks colored, "You're something of a bastard."

"Sticks and stones," Dean's grin was nearly spread ear to ear. "You coming or do you want me to call you a cab?"

Glowering, Castiel slid out of his seat and followed after the arrogant detective. He climbed into the passenger seat of Dean's personal car - a 67' Chevy Impala that was a dead giveaway of what Dean liked to do in his free time. Castiel could appreciate the dedication it took to keep the car in mint condition, clean, and basically shined to impress. Sadly, Castiel preferred modern cars.. not something that still came with a cassette deck. It had been such a long time since he's seen knobs instead of buttons to tune into radio stations.

"Beautiful, isn't she?"

Castiel's brow furrowed and he lifted his gaze from the ancient looking tape deck to peer at Dean. Then he shifted his attention out the window in assumption that Dean was referring to some woman, "She... ?"

"My baby," Dean fondly patted the dash of his car.

Oh. Dean was one of those guys. Castiel flashed an awkward, crooked smile with a less than assuring nod before he fixed his gaze out the window the remainder of the ride home. He nearly bolted as soon as the car pulled up to the curb outside his apartment building. Dean caught him by the elbow, a worried look in his green eyes but an easy smile on his lips. "I'll ask the captain if you can just fill out the normal mumbo-jumbo paper report instead of coming all the way into the office. I need to do some other stuff, but I'll stop by later to check up on you. Will you be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Castiel whispered, staring pointedly at the fingers encircling his elbow.

Gingerly the grip loosened and Castiel hastily made his way out of the car and up the steps while fumbling for his keys. Behind him he heard Dean yell through the open window. "Call if you need anything."

* * *

_**A/N:** The response has been amazing guys, keep it up! :D_

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**Review?**


	4. Surprise!

**Part IV  
Surprise!**

Castiel had three visitors that day, and each one ended more awkwardly than the last. The first was Charlie. She swung by around lunch, thrusting some sort of pita sandwich on him while commenting that he looked like shit. Castiel didn't take it personally because he had caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror earlier that morning and knew the bags under his eyes were more pronounced than usual. A sleepless night would do that to a person. She had briefly stood in his kitchen, nervously picking at the sleeve cuffs of her light jacket in a way that made Castiel more edgy, and had asked him about what the man had taken.

The odd thing was that as far as Castiel could tell, nothing was missing.

Later, after Charlie left, Kevin had stopped by. Kevin was the behavior analysts from the department, relatively new and fresh out of college. What he lacked in experience he tried to make up with being overly polite. Castiel didn't allow him into the apartment, instead holding the door half-way open to talk to his co-worker standing in the hall. Kevin made an awkward offer to talk about what happened, and Castiel made an equally awkward excuse to not needing to confide with a shrink. They had stood stiffly, staring at each other without really making full eye contact. Kevin had shuffled his feet, tucked his chin and quietly mentioned it was mandatory for department to perform a psyche evaluation on its employees.

Castiel shut the door on Kevin and made it a point to flip the deadbolt hard enough to be heard down the hallway.

The last person to visit was his squirrely neighbor, Chuck. Castiel didn't bother unlatching the chain, and just peered at his neighbor through the vertical slit made between the door and jamb. Their blue eyes clashed, and Chuck was even worse than Kevin about looking Castiel in the eyes. Chuck had started out with a strained attempt at a casual greeting. He shifted, stuttered, then simply turned and walked back to his own apartment without another word.

So it was no surprised, when a fourth visitor came knocking, Castiel didn't bother getting up from the couch. The knocking became less polite and more demanding. Castiel had a feeling he knew who was arrogantly pounding on his front door, and he felt it appropriate to ignore it. He tilted his head back and waited out the noise. The banging stopped and Castiel could hear muffled curses being directed at his locked door. A moment later Castiel's phone rang and he knew his ruse was over.

Castiel pulled it from his pocket, smirking at Dean's name popping up on the screen. He cleared his throat before answering in a falsetto voice, throwing in an accent for kicks. "Hallo?"

_"Castiel?"_

There was a period of silence where Castiel could imagine the confused twist to Dean's expression and the detective pulling the phone away from ear to check the dialed number was right. "Who dis?"

_"... Cas ... do you want me to kick in the door, because I swear to God I will."_

"You no break'ah down my door. I make'ah you pay, I sue you ass."

_"Cas, I know that's you, I heard the phone ringing in the apartment before it you picked up."_

Castiel turned his head just enough to glance at his front door with a smile as he wondered if Dean was trying to peer in through the peep hole, "I know no Cas. No Cas here. You have wrong numbah. Go break'ah down someone else'ah door."

_"You think you're cute, don't you."_

"I very handsome man."

There was a mixed sound of a snort and a laugh from the other end of the line. Castiel smiled to himself and stood from the couch and quietly made his way toward the door.

_"Seriously Cas, open the door."_

"I no want open door," Castiel played while stealing a quick glance through the peep hole. He planted his free palm against the wood and leaned against it, smiling to himself as he watched the detective on the other side. "You sound wike'ah very violent man."

Castiel could see Dean smiling on the other side of the door.

_"What if I said I brought dinner?"_

"Mmm," Castiel bit down on lower lip, trying his damnest not to smile like some high school girl talking to her latest crush. "Keep talking."

_"It's... Chinese."_

Castiel raised up on his toes to try and get a better view of Dean, but he couldn't tell what the man was carrying. The accent and pitch he had been faking began to slip, "What kind?"

_"Open the door and you can find out."_

There were a low, almost husky quality to Dean's words that made Castiel's pulse quicken. He needed to put an end to this game before he fooled himself into think the detective was actually flirting with him rather than just playing along. Castiel drew away from the door and undid all the locks before opening the door - but just enough to peer out at the detective and hang up the phone.

Dean leaned against the door, forcing Castiel to put a foot against the back of it and grip it tightly with one hand to keep it from opening any further. Dean continued to lazily push his weight against the door, "Don't make me use my officer of the law voice."

"How about you put down the food then just walk away. No one will have to know a thing."

Dean's grin flashed wide in challenge, "_Castiel Novak_," His voice boomed, effortlessly filling the apartment and hallway. "_This is Detective Winch—_"

Castiel let go of the door, sending Dean stumbling inside to nearly crash against the kitchen counter. Castiel calmly shut the door, flipping the dead bolt, and with heated cheeks (oh god what would his neighbors think was going on?) turned to face the detective with a mild scowl. The expression blanked when something small, furry, white, and staring up at him with crystal blue eyes and pointed ears was shoved into his hands. Castiel stared at the kitten.

The white kitten stared back.

"What the hell is this?"

Dean smirked from where he leaned against the counter, "What does it look like?"

The feline twisted in attempt to dislodge itself from Castiel's awkward grasp. It's needle-like claws dug into his hands, eliciting a sharp cry from Castiel. He jerked his hand away while his other pinched the nap of the kitten's neck to hold it apart from himself. Pin pricks of blood welled on the flesh of his thumb and Castiel habitually brought hand to mouth and sucked on the offended flesh. Noticing the odd look Dean was giving him, Castiel glared at the detective.

The kitten let out a piteous mew.

"Ooh, you bring'ah me Chinese." Castiel mocked while stalking into the kitchen. Dean curiously followed after him. A large soup pot was retrieved from one of the lower cabinets. He set the pot on the stove and dropped the kitten into the gleaming silver. Castiel glanced over his shoulder, viewing Dean's struggle between amusement and concern. Castiel kept his own expression serious as he brought out the matching lid and lowered it over the bobbing head of the small kitten.

"Cas..." Dean's tone warned.

Castiel reached forward and turned on the burner. Granted, it was for the wrong burner the pot was over, because Castiel wasn't so cruel as to really cook a cat in a pot. Not to mention Charlie would skin him alive if she caught wind of his actions. Dean, however, wasn't going to take the risk. He was instantly on Cas, pinning the smaller man against the front of the oven while reached over Castiel's out-stretched arm to flick the knob to the off position.

Castiel turned it back on.

Dean turned it off.

The kitten meowed from inside the pot.

On. Off. On. Off. At some point Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist and pulled him away from the stove and pressed him into the lip of counter instead. Dean had one of Castiel's wrists seized and pressed against the small of back. The other arm was twined with Castiel's as they fought over the position of the knob. The cheap plastic broke after Castiel's last twist, the position stuck in the on position.

The stove top wasn't the only thing turned on.

Castiel went still, realizing, with a healthy dose of embarrassment that colored him up like a beet, that he would always have a certain set of kinks because of Lucifer. Now, having his arm restrained – gently, as there was no pain from the way Dean kept his hand pinned between them. The pressure was firm, dominating. The detective had wedged a leg between his in order to maintain control. Castiel was partially bent over the counter and his mind was racing off with a number of filthy thoughts.

Castiel bit down hard on his lower lip to keep himself composed. By stint of will Castiel kept his captured hand from sliding fingers down the front of Dean's trousers, although right then he really wanted to know what equipment the detective was packing aside from the standard issue .40 cal Beretta on his hip. Castiel silently cursed Lucifer's name while pressing himself forward into the counter instead of rocking his hips back against the detective's. "Dean," His low voice came out strained. The detective instantly released him, backing off a step.

"Sorry Cas - I wasn't thinking. Shit, that's kind of how that man had you pinned. Sorry man,." Dean rambled while grabbing the pot from the stove and moving it onto the counter. He removed the lid, retrieved the bewildered kitten and cupped it to his chest with one hand. The other smoothed the fur between the kitten's ears.

Castiel straightened, but didn't turn around in fear of the bulge in his jeans being noticed. He let Dean mistake the situation for something else. The position had bit similar, yes, but different in the fact that Castiel trusted Dean not to hurt him. It was a big difference. Castiel edged sideways, opened the junk drawer to grab a pair of needle-nose plyers and used it on the metal prong that was left of the stove knob. He forced it to turn into the position he hoped was off. The broken plastic knob was tossed on the counter to be repaired later. The plyers went back into the junk drawer and Castiel moved on, keeping his back to Dean, and started to fiddle with the coffee pot. He didn't care that it was too late for coffee, because he couldn't turn around until his arousal problem had deflated.

"I really did bring Chinese," Dean said softly with an apologetic tone.

There was a rustling of plastic and when Castiel glanced over his shoulder Dean had set two styrofoam to-go boxes on the breakfast bar. Castiel swallowed, attempting to clear his throat, but his voice still came out graveled, "Thanks. You didn't have to bring me anything, I do have food in the house."

Dean chuckled, "Well if I have to be here, we're going to eat something good."

"You don't _have_ to be here," Castiel growled as he jammed his thumb against the coffee pot's on button.

There was a pause in sound as Dean momentarily halted his actions of removing the wrapper from the plastic fork. Castiel could feel the man's eyes watching him, questioning him, but Castiel didn't turn to meet the look. After a moment Dean resumed his motions, freeing the fork and flipping one of the to-go boxes open. "Everyone's just concerned about you."

It didn't sound right to Castiel's ears. He crossed his arms before turning around to glare at Dean... and the kitten that was wandering around on the counter because that was where the detective had set it. Oh hell no. Castiel swept forward, snatching the kitten off the counter and lightly tossing it to the floor - what? Cats landed on their feet. Blue eyes narrowed on the scampering feline before flicking up to glare at Dean, "I said I was fine."

"The words _I'm fine _coming from the mouth of a man that hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours sounds like bullshit to me."

Castiel continued to glare, but the sound of ripping caught his attention and he immediately bolted for the living room. His hands instantly went to his hair as he watched the white demon kitten claw its way up the sofa. "Why did you bring this thing here?"

"Aw, relax cupcake, the couch was already ruined, and I thought you liked animals."

"No," Castiel frowned, watching the kitten run across the couch to leap on the arm. "I've never owned a pet, never have wanted to own a pet and my rental agreement forbids it."

"Oh," There was sound of chewing from Dean. "I saw adoption pamphlets, and donation tabs.."

Castiel's head whipped over to the detective, brow furrowed with question. Dean slurped up teriyaki noodles before side-stepping and plucking said pamphlets from the stack of mail. He smacked them on the counter and Castiel wandered back over to peer down at them. Charlie must have left it for him. She was always bugging him to donate to one fund or another. "When did you go through my mail..?"

"I didn't go through it," Dean argued as he returned to his dinner. "I'm a detective, have a bit of faith in my observation skills."

Castiel snorted, "Charlie gave me these. She's the animal lover, not me."

Marching back into the living room, Castiel picked the kitten up by the nape and went up to Dean, holding the infernal beast out for the detective. "So take it away."

"Mm, nope," Dean loaded another forkful of noodles.

Castiel frowned, then as the kitten began to squirm, he hung the white beast on Dean's arm. Sharp claws pricked the detective through the shirt and Dean gave an annoyed growl before removing it - and much to Castiel's horror, placed it on the counter, going so far to praise the creature with an ear rub. Castiel chewed on the end of his thumb as he watched it pounce the donation pamphlets. "I don't want it."

"Don't be like that," Dean teased with a Cheshire worthy grin. "I can see you're falling in love already."

Castiel's voice flat-lined, "Don't make me put the cat in the pot again."

"I just think," Dean edged in with caution, "you need someone here with you. It'll make you feel better"

"People get _dogs_ to protect them - what is a cat going to do?"

"Give it a week. If you still feel the same, I'll take it back."

Castiel sunk into the seat next to Dean, not at all pleased by the arrangement. He folded his arm on the counter and let his forehead fall onto his arms. "Why do you insist on torturing me?"

"Because," Dean reached over, lightly patting Castiel's between the shoulders. The last touch lingered, turning into a gentle squeeze to massage the tension located there. "I like you."

Snorting, Castiel rolled his head to lay his temple against his forearm and defiantly stared at the detective. "You have a funny way of showing it."

Dean's lips quirked, mischievous. He glanced aside, clucking his tongue. "Are you kidding me, I brought you a kitten, that's like boyfriend level material."

Castiel's heart skipped a beat while Dean laughed the comment aside. The hand continued to knead at the back of his neck a few seconds more before lifting away. Ignore it, Castiel chanted to himself. It didn't mean anything. Some guys were just _chummy_ with their fellow co-workers. It's not like Castiel got all hot and bothered when any guy happened to get close. Hardly so. Dean Winchester was just.. _hot_, and Castiel had been something of a dry spell since Lucifer skipped off to some Caribbean Island. It also didn't help that Dean's playful comments continuously came off as a flirting.

There was no way, though, Castiel was just some _lab rat_ and Dean was a top-shot detective.

The disappointment settled like a crushing weight over his heart. Without thinking about his actions, Castiel reached forward to capture the kitten, drawing it off the counter and into his lap. His rubbed his fingers across its head, feeling the kitten press more demandingly against his hand while... vibrating. It was a strange sensation to feel against his hand, the repeating high and low of the kitten's thrumming. That must be a cat's purr. Castiel had watched more than his fair share of animal geographic to know felines purred (except some of the big felines, although Castiel couldn't remember which ones or the reason to why, or even if it was true, not like he had the pleasure of petting a tiger to see if it was capable of purring).

It was new to him to feel it against his hands.

Dean was chuckling, standing up from the stool. Castiel glanced at him, and Dean had one of those knowing looks. Whatever, this didn't mean that Castiel liked the kitten. He glared at the detective, hoping that by harsh look alone he was expressing that as soon as the man was out the door, he was going to toss the kitten down the garbage chute.

The detective merely smiled, checked his phone and quietly exhaled. When his green eyes flicked back up to Castiel, the man was once again putting forth a bright smile, "You eat, get some sleep, call me if–"

"–if I can't manage to feed myself, you'll come over and do it for me?"

Dean smirked, "If that's what it takes."

Castiel had a feeling the detective would do just that if challenged enough. He saw the man to the door, raised his hand in a halfhearted wave. As he leaned against the jamb and watched Dean stride down the hall, Castiel realized just how big his little crush was becoming.

A white furball curiously wandered out into the hall, and for a moment Castiel considered shutting the kitten out of the apartment. Someone would surely take pity on the baby blue eyes and find it a home. In the end, Castiel scooped the white kitten up in one hand and brought it back into the apartment. After the locks were in place, Castiel held the kit up to eye-level, their blue eyes meeting. "You and I are going to establish a set of ground rules. First rule, you listen to me or I know where to find a bag, a rock, and river. Understand?"

The kitten purred.

* * *

_**Things to Know:**__  
1.) I mixed in a bit of Misha in with this Castiel. Misha once crashed a Jared/Jensen panel, pretending to be one of the questioners, he faked an accent as he asked them questions. Also, in a panel with Sebastian, he said his favorite sound was that of a cat... in a food processor. Panels are highly amusing.  
2.) Guess what will be the kitten's name._


	5. Plastic or Revenge?

**Part V  
Plastic or Revenge?**

"No."

Small, demanding paws pressed into Castiel's shin. The kitten let forth a begging meow as it reached its little claws up higher on his jeans. Castiel shook the feline aside before it could get the idea to use his leg like a clawing post. It had been a horrible, painful learning experience to discover the baby feline was capable of shimming up his body like a baby bear would a tree. It had rocketed up to his face and then had cried at him, like it couldn't figure out why it was up there in the first place.

Castiel stepped away from the kitten, only to have it pad insistently after him, staring up at him with those baby blue eyes. He moved the to-go box of Chinese food to block sight of those begging eyes. Teriyaki noodles, however, didn't muffle the piteous little mews.

With a deep scowl, Castiel decided the kitten's days were numbered.

Another pleading meow and Castiel growled with a frustration that was quickly sky-rocketing. He spun, yanked open a cabinet to pull out a bowl. He plopped some of the beef strips into the bowl and then all but slammed the dish on the floor in front of the kitten. He watched, positively seething, as the kitten moved up to the bowl, sniffed a few times at the sauce slathered meat. It soon recoiled in distaste, then looked up him and _meowed_.

"What do you want from me. It's _food_. Eat it and _shut up_."

Much to his surprise, the kitten turned away from him and sprinted away. Castiel felt relieved for all of five seconds before he became greatly paranoid what sort of dastardly deed the kitten was committing. One glance into the hallway leading into his bedroom solved that mystery. The white demon had just mistaken Castiel's pale carpet for the bathroom. Castiel raced for the paper towels and stain cleaner. The whole while, the kitten watched him.

"Dean did this on purpose," Castiel growled while he obsessively scrubbed at the carpet. "Don't want you to be alone, he says. You'll fall in love with it, he says. Fucking bastard. He knew you'd do this - put you up to it, didn't he?"

Castiel pointed the spray bottle of cleaner at the kitten, snorting when the creature did little but sniff at the nozzle.

After cleaning up the kitten's latest desecration, Castiel went through his fridge in attempt to find something the beast would eat. The lunch meat was a go, but Castiel wasn't willing to share. Without further ado, Castiel was soon knotting his sneakers and pulling on a light jacket to make a run to the corner store. As a last minute thought, he stuffed the kitten into his jacket and pulled the zipper up to his sternum. He couldn't trust the little devil alone his apartment. Who knew what disaster would greet him upon returning home?

Castiel flashed on the sight of his living room in a state of chaos just yesterday.

Oh. Right.

"It'll just be a quick trip out," Castiel spoke to the warm, purring blob curled against his stomach. "We'll get you some food and... toiletries."

Realizing he didn't know what he needed to care for a cat, Castiel grabbed his phone before he left, keys in hand. He stood, for a long moment, with just his hand on the door - ready to leave - but unable to do so. An apprehension seized him, a sudden flurry of worrisome thoughts. He didn't want to leave. He _did_, but at the same time it seemed the worst idea in the world to leave his little apartment. There was just so much that could go wrong if he left.

Little claws kneaded into his belly and Castiel knew he had to leave - for the sake of his carpet, he had to leave.

"Just a quick run," He fumbled with the keys after he convinced himself into the hallway. He jogged down the four flights of stairs and as his steps took him out onto the street, his pace was on the brink of becoming a flat-out sprint. Castiel hunched his shoulders, praying the collar of his jacket would hide his face from everyone else. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, with one cupping the warm blob of hidden kitten. Castiel concentrated on the little beast, finding his mix of ire and concern for the creature to be welcomed thoughts compared to the paranoid gnawing away at his confidence like some hungry rat.

Castiel didn't ease up on his flight to the store until he was actually inside and ducking into the nearest aisle. He couldn't even begin to explain why his heart was currently racing like a pack of hellhounds was after it. Never had he experienced such fright leaving his apartment to go to the damn grocer. It was ridiculous. He _knew_ it, but knowing his reaction was irrational didn't stop it from happening.

It took a few minutes for Castiel to compose himself, and another minute of searching the web via his phone to have a decent idea of what to buy for the furry addition to his house. Perhaps it would have been more simple to call Charlie and ask for her expertise, but Castiel was certain she would want to come over and fawn over the terrible beast and insist he name it.

Devil, it's name was going to be Devil.

Although, as Castiel reflected on the snap decision to call the beast a rendition of Satan, he had to admit, the beast had similarities to his ex-boyfriend, Lucifer. Needy, always pawing at him, and Castiel would just bet that the kitten's favorite spot would revolve somewhere around his groin. Heck, the kitten was purring in complete enjoyment as it pricked sharp claws into the soft skin of his abdomen. It even had blue eyes, and wasn't there something about the devil dressing in a white suit?

Castiel googled it while he picked out several cans of cat food (doubting the kitten would be in his apartment long enough to justify buying a whole bag full of dry food) but he only came up with the phrase Devil in a Blue dress. Instantly mental images of Lucifer wearing a blue satin evening gown had Castiel cracking up in the pet aisle.

The laughter died down when Castiel was faced with the challenge of getting both cat litter and the pan it went into, in to his apartment without drawing attention of anyone in the building. It was a known fact the landlord abhorred pets. Castiel could sympathize. During his younger years he had the displeasure of staying in apartments that were formerly owned by pet owners. The damage caused by animals was astounding.

His carpet would agree!

"At least Lucifer only metaphorically shit all over my stuff," Castiel muttered as he steered his way to the front counter to pay. The woman working the registered smiled up at him, about to inquire about his new pet (or so Castiel guessed, because what other small talk could be spawned from scanning several cans of wet foot and a bag of cat litter?) when the devil of a kitten popped it's head out from his jacket.

There was a string of _awwws_ and _it's so cute_ and Castiel wanted to shoot himself. He managed a grudging smile while internally comment that the same could be said about his ex. Yeah, yeah, the devil was known to be all charm. Castiel shoved the kitten's head back into his jacket and drew the zipper up higher to prevent any future moments of _cute_.

Castiel made it home in near record time considering the burden in his arms and inside his jacket. He took the stairs up to lessen his chances of awkward interactions. Once he reached his hallway, apprehension began to mount as he neared his door. His hand was slightly shaking as he pulled out his keys to unlock his door. He told himself, repeatedly, that everything would be fine. He would open the door and the apartment would be just as he left it.

It was.

A small prayer was directed at the ceiling as Castiel passed the threshold. The locks were set, the goods were placed on the counter and the kitten was deposited on the floor of his kitchen. Castiel went about feeding it before it could start up with the torturous mews. The beast was more than content to feast on the foul smelling slab of what Castiel could only assume was meat - or something that apparently passed the health code for pets. It probably wasn't good, whatever it was, but the kitten ate it as if it's life depended on it.

A small dish of water was set next to the plate of food before Castiel set up the litter pan. He wandered the house with it in hand before he decided on slipping it into the closet he didn't much use. The site on his phone told him to make sure the kitten knew where it was located. Castiel translated this to mean he was allowed to dump the kitten into the litter box, made a few short words about 'this is where you do your dirty business', then gave it some privacy.

The close of the evening found Castiel once again on the couch instead of his bed. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. For a long time the broken screen of his flat screen served as the focus of his stare. The apartment was quiet, unnervingly so. His socked feet tucked between the gap between the couch cushions and he curled more tightly in on himself.

He just couldn't shake it.

It wasn't a robbery.

Castiel was smart enough to connect the vague pieces and know that the man had not broken into his apartment to flip his place for a quick smash and grab. The man had been looking for something specific that he didn't find. The cops had no leads on him. It meant he would be back. It wasn't a matter of _if_, only _when_. Whatever the man was looking for, he was welcome to take it. Castiel didn't want trouble. He just wanted the constant prickle of unease that continue to slither down his spine to go away.

It wasn't until Castiel felt the small paws of the kitten touch against his hip did he realize he had been rocking back and forth. He peered down at the insistent creature that appeared to be trying to wedge between his chest and legs. Castiel didn't know why he complied, but he unfolded his legs to set his feet on the floor. It was no surprise that the kitten instantly climbed into his lap and made itself comfortable.

"There is no doubt in my mind," Castiel grumbled. "You are a reincarnation of my ex."

Instantly Castiel was struck with the urge to call Lucifer. The man was nothing but trouble. Castiel knew this well before they had even hooked up in High School. Yet he knew that he'd feel _safe_ if Lucifer was around. Castiel's fingers inched toward his phone before he mentally slapped himself. Bad idea, don't do it. There was another option. The features of Castiel's face smoothed, almost curving into a smile.

"Dean Winchester."

Castiel idly prodded at the curled up form of the white kitten. "I think I owe him a returning favor, don't you agree?"

By _favor_ Castiel of course meant _revenge_.

Drawing out his phone, Castiel flicked through his contacts before he found the detective's name. He hit dial before reclining on the couch and putting the phone to his ear. It picked up after the second ring.

_"Miss me already?"_

Castiel shot an unseen glare at the far wall. It was tempting to respond in jest, but he had a ruse to play. "Dean? I... sorry, I shouldn't have called.. it's just that.."

_"Just what, Cas?"_

"T-there's this guy outside my apartment building. I had to make a run to the store a-and I think he might be.. oh no.. "

_"What's going on? Cas?"_

For a moment Castiel felt guilty, because there was real concern behind Dean's firm questions. "Oh.. I just.. I left the cat in a box before I left. I didn't want it to ruin anything and.. shit.. I guess I should have put some holes in the box.."

There was silence from the other end of the line. After a long moment Castiel heard Dean sigh.

_"Give me a few, I'll be right there."_

"Oh, could you pick up a movie while you're at it? Maybe something to watch it on too? Thanks!" Castiel hung up before Dean could protest. He could just imagine the detective's glower. It begged the question of whether or not Dean would bother even showing up, but at a quarter to eleven, Castiel heard a familiar knock at his door.

This time he was more than happy to open it up to greet the surly looking detective on the other side. Dean didn't immediately enter the premises. Instead he opted to lock onto Castiel's eyes and give him a long, hard stare. It was more threatening than anything heated. All the same, Castiel still felt himself nervously swallow.

"You know I have work in the morning, right?"

Castiel stubbornly lifted his chin, "So do I."

The detective gave a derisive snort before stepping into the apartment and at once began to scan the place for signs of a dead cat. What he found was the kitten happily coiled on the center cushion of the couch. Dean's green eyes grew with intensity as he snapped a harsh look onto Castiel. "You lied."

"Turns out he was only sleeping," Castiel voiced quietly, beginning to wilt as his attempt at revenge was going down in flames. "Silly me."

"Do you think this is funny?" Dean started as he stalked up to Castiel, backing him up against the fridge. "Calling me up to jerk my chain. I have a job to do, and people out there who actually need my help. I don't have time for this bullshit."

Castiel's blue eyes carefully shifted between both of Dean's green orbs, wondering what had happened over the last few hours to cause such a change in the detective. Earlier he had been playful, teasing, but now he was all bent out of shape. Castiel slouched against the fridge in defeat. "It was either call you, or call my ex, and.. you said I could call you if I needed anything."

The truth didn't make Dean's expression soften, but at least the detective didn't instantly bite back with a retort. He took a long moment to examine Castiel's features. Castiel was certain at this proximity the detective could notice the way his pulse raced. Half of him wanted Dean to back off already, while the other wanted him to close the distance. Lingering in the space between made Castiel ten different kinds of jittery.

He visibly flinched when Dean prodded a finger against his sternum, "Don't joke about killing kittens, that shit ain't funny."

There was the faintest shimmer of amusement in Dean's green eyes. Visible for only a second, but long enough for Castiel's brow to furrow and his lips to start pantomiming a fish. "Are you - are you screwing around with me?"

Dean smirked.

A brilliant flush heated Castiel's features. In a moment of pique, Castiel shoved the detective away. "Assbutt!"

_Asshole._

What Castiel had meant to say was _asshole_, but what came out was a mixture of asshole and butthead. He knew his slip up would forever haunt him at the absolute delight that blossomed across Dean's face. Castiel slouched against the fridge while Dean's grin continued to grow.

"Assbutt, that's what you are going with?"

Too stubborn to admit defeat to the pompous detective, Castiel stiffly crossed his arms over his chest and defiantly lifted his chin.

"Wow," Dean shook his head in a mock state of awe. "You really are a bona fide lab rat."

"And you're a—"

"An assbutt, right? Don't worry, I caught it the first time." Dean winked.

Castiel fumed. "Shut up," He snapped, but despite his attempt to scowl, it did nothing to diminish the blush dominating his features. "Did you bring a movie or what?"

* * *

_**A/N: **__ Sorry for the delay on the update! Life kind took a metaphorical bat to my head and it took a while for me to get back on the writing track. This chapter was going to be longer. A lot longer. I decided to split the chapter, this one is totally bonding with the kitten moment (can you see how it is helping Castiel?) And the next chapter, well, Dean is going to be there , so... ;3_

_Hey! If any of you guys are reading my other story, Soldier's Heart and Mask, I'd love it if you left a word or two of response. It needs review love. Well, so does this, so double-review-duty friends! It makes the world go 'round!_

_Also, just want to say, I watched the season premier and I'm like... sad. All the things I predicted are coming true and I am not happy. I need to write more happy rom-com fluff to make up for it. Onward!_


	6. So Close

**Part VI  
So Close  
**

Dean Winchester was an avid Chuck Norris fan.

Castiel would go so far as to call it a man crush. It seriously baffled him how adamant Dean became when Castiel had tried, and epically failed, to know who was Chuck Norris. Somehow he had gotten him confused with Jackie Chan, which apparently was really insulting and Castiel didn't have the foggiest idea why it was such a mistake. Castiel never watched movies, so he simply didn't understand Dean's obsession.

"It's more than just the movies, Cas!"

Raising dark brows, Castiel reclined against his torn up sofa and sipped at a beer recovered from the depths of his fridge. He waved the bottle at Dean in a silent urging for the detective to _go on_ - regale him with the marvels of Chuck Norris.

"Man, he's won martial arts tournaments - hell, he even started his own type called Chun Kuk Do! Dude, the guy even knows Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu."

Castiel shrugged indifferently, then hid a smile behind another tip of the bottle when Dean nearly pulled out his hair in frustration. It was greatly amusing to rile up the detective. He got all flustered, his eyes turned a vibrant shade of jade, and the growl in the man's words made Castiel's groin tighten and his imagination flicker with snap shots of a darkened room and bodies moving against one another while glistening with sweat.

"I like.. " Castiel raked his mind for the name of any actor on tv, considering he only watched nature shows his choices were limited. He could no doubt win the animal alphabet game, but recalling the names of humans was strangely difficult. "Steve Irwin."

"Who the fuck is Steve Irwin?"

"He was a big conservationist in Australia. Had this show called the Crocodile Hunter. Totally wrestled crocodiles, can Chuck Norris take on an eighteen foot saltwater crocodile?"

Dean stared at him for a long moment, "Who.. the fuck.. goes around wrestling crocodiles?"

"He was saving them."

"By _wrestling_ them?"

"Bah," Castiel waved Dean's argument aside while moving to rise. He only made it half-way before Dean shoved him back down.

"Na-uh. You're not moving until you've been educated on the bad assery that is Chuck Norris."

Castiel was disinclined to argue, especially when the detective sat next to him - close enough that that their thighs nearly brushed - and he leaned forward to set up the lap top he had brought. Castiel nibbled on his lower lip as he stole a glance at the way Dean's tucked shirt strained from beneath the belted waistband of gray slacks. Silently he prayed for the fabric to spill free and allow him a glimpse of skin—

"One time Chuck Norris stared a man to death."

Castiel rapidly blinked, righting his gaze as Dean sat up to smirk at him. It took a moment for his mind to tune back in on what had been said. Instantly his brow furrowed, "That's impossible."

"What? - no. They're... they're Chuck Norris Facts," Dean's brows raised as he curiously searched Castiel's expression.

"It cannot be a fact, because a man cannot be stared to death."

"Jesus Cas, they're all over the internet. You know, like ghosts sit around the campfire and tell Chuck Norris stories, or Death once had a near-Chuck Norris experience. He can slam a revolving door, count to infinity twice? I figured an introvert like you would have known them."

Castiel nervously picked at the label on his drink, "I don't have internet."

This fact seemed to stump Dean, "The hell do you do then?"

A glance was stolen toward the book still strew across the floor near the broken shelves. Dean was quick to follow the motion, taking in the mountain of novels before settled a look on Castiel. A look that made the forensic specialist want to retreat to his room because it was the same kind of look he use to get in high school. The one the jocks would pin on him before commenting what nerd he was - like it was a social sin to enjoy reading.

"Right, you read, I should have guessed."

* * *

_"What are you reading?"_

_Castiel froze as a hand descended to anchor against the table in front of him. The owner of said hand leaned over Castiel's shoulder, trying to glance at the cover of the book he held. Castiel's blue eyes were bugged as he stared openly at the junior crowding him at the school library table. Nick was two years older than Castiel, but had been held back a great because of delinquency. He played on the varsity basketball team, and was in what Castiel would call the popular crowd and was rumored to be a trouble-maker. The latest rumor was that Nick had gotten picked up for being a minor in possession of alcohol and when he was getting booked, had jokingly claimed his alias was Lucifer._

_His friends had started calling him Lucifer as a joke, but then the name had stuck._

_Nick's pale eyes met his own and Castiel stumbled for words. In the end, as he failed to say a single coherent sentence, Castiel flipped his book closed so that Lucifer could read the title for himself._

_"Mm, it any good?"_

_Was that a trick question? Castiel searched Lucifer's expression for sign of ruse, even going so far as to glance past the Junior to see if any of his buddies were lurking nearby to burst into laughter at Castiel's expense. Castiel's fingers nervously picked at the worn cover of the crime novel. It was good, so good that he was stealing away from his study hall to read it. Instead of voicing this to Lucifer, Castiel's gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's just a book."_

_"Is that so," Nick smiled as he spoke the three words, effortlessly winding amusement in his tone. "I was hoping you might be able to recommend to me a good book to pass the time."_

_"M-me?"_

_"Yes you," So simple put. "I see you in here a lot, figured you'd know best."_

_Castiel's lips worked around half-formed thoughts. Some were panicked ideas of trying to deny he spent a lot of time in the library. Others were pulling forth various titles he thought might appeal to the Junior. Then there was the cynical part of him that wanted to jest that he didn't know Lucifer could read. Jocks weren't known for their intelligence._

_"So.. " The confidence Lucifer had been emitting cracked just a bit, allowing the thread of nervousness peek through in the half second it took for Lucifer to advert his gaze. When his pales eyes returned to Castiel, they were once more relaxed and at perfect ease. "You going to help me out, or what?"_

_"S-sure, I guess." Still feeling a bit dumbfounded, Castiel reached for his book bag to pull out a notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. "What kind of books do you like?"_

_"Aside from The Anarchist Cookbook?"_

_Judging by the crooked grin on Lucifer's face, Castiel assumed that was meant as a joke. He gave an unsure smile in return. It was with unsteady fingers that he retrieved a pen and jotted down the first book he could remember that might perk Lucifer's interest. 'To End All Wars: A Story of Loyalty and Rebellion' by Adam Hochschild. He tore the page out of his notebook and handed it to the older boy._

_Much to Lucifer's surprise, "That easy, huh?"_

_Castiel fiddled with his pen, at a loss for what he should say in response._

_"Thanks Castiel."_

_The sophomore felt his face heat up in irrational embarrassment. The guy knew his name. They weren't even in the same grade and in completely different crowds (hell Castiel wasn't even in crowd being the loner that he was) and it just floored him that Lucifer knew his name. Brain numbed by awe, Castiel replied out of polite habit, "You're welcome."_

_"The name's Nick," Lucifer held out his empty hand._

_"Lucifer," Castiel joked, another uneasy smile as he attempted to sound more suave than he was - show that he wasn't always lost to the charms of a book. He had heard all about Nick's new nickname._

_There was a strange twist to Lucifer's smile that made Castiel feel guilty about repeating the nickname. "Yeah.. that too, but feel free to call me Nick."_

_Castiel wasn't sure which name was more of a privilege to say. He bobbed his head in a nod, "Okay... Nick."_

_"Thanks again," Lucifer said in parting as he lifted the notebook page in emphasis. He turned toward the tall shelves, "I'll see you around."_

* * *

"Yo, Earth to Castiel - come in Major Tom?"

Flinching, Castiel snapped out of his daze when he registered the hand waving in front of his face. Castiel felt the heat rise up his neck and curl in his cheeks well before he dared a side-long glance at Dean. "Erm, sorry."

"You alright?"

Castiel nodded before hastily taking another swig of his beer.

Dean narrowed his eyes, appearing doubtful, but didn't pick at it. Instead he gestured at the opening scene of the movie playing on the laptop. "You're missing out on the good stuff."

"Sorry," Castiel voiced for a second time and firmed his attention on the screen. A glance at the nearby DVD case revealed the title of the movie: Code of Silence. Above the title was a name in bold white lettering: Chuck Norris. Castiel didn't feel very optimistic about being convinced that this Norris guy was the master of the impossible, but he figured he would buckle down and pay attention to the movie if only because Dean was so interested in it.

It quickly became obvious why Dean liked the movie - and maybe idolized it when he was younger. Perhaps it even first inspired Dean to become a cop. It featured Chuck Norris as a streetwise officer that takes down a crime lord. Eddie Cusack, as the character is called, is a certainly portrayed as what Dean referred to as a bad ass - coming out on top under impossible odds. What Castiel finds most interesting about the character was he was an officer that broke the code of silence by speaking out against a corrupt officer.

Castiel never learned what happened to Eddie Cusack as he was pinned down in a warehouse by Comacho gang members, running low on ammo and the antagonist was on the verge of killing the female co-star. He never learned because even though the action was reaching a climax, Castiel's eyelids had become heavy and slowly but surely he nodded off. After nearly forty-eight hours of being awake, Castiel felt relaxed enough to sleep.

Two things woke him a few hours later. The first thing to stir his conscious was the music of his alarm drifting down the hallway from his bedroom. The noise faint, but Castiel had spent over a year conditioning himself to wake up to music instead of blaring beeps that seemed geared more toward giving him a heart attack than rousing him from sleep.

The second factor was the blind sensation of something being _very_ close to his face. Castiel wearily let his eyes slit open, a hint of blue visible between dark lashes, and took in the object. A furry white face of the kitten came into focus, and as if sensing the attention the thing began to purr. It moved forward to sniff at Castiel's fluttering lashes, tickling Castiel's face with its long whiskers. Castiel groaned in dismay and squirmed to bury his face into his pillow.

His arm wrapped around the rather round shape of his pillow. It was a mixture of soft and firm beneath his touch, and as Castiel groggily registered how warm it felt pressed up against his face, his pillow _flexed_. Castiel stilled and his mind reeled. His eyes had snapped wide open and he stared at the faint reflection he could see on the dark surface of the laptop. Dean was there, slouched against the back of the couch with his head tilted back against the rest and his arms stretched out along the back. Then there was Castiel..

His pillow, which he still had his arm nestled around and the side of his face pressed against, was nothing other than Dean's thigh.

He should move. He really, _really_, should extract himself from the detective, but at the same time Castiel was certain any sudden movements would jar the man awake and then the whole situation would turn ten different shades of awkward. Castiel wondered who had fallen asleep first, because there was no way that either of them agreed to the current position.

Castiel slowly drew his hand away from where he had tucked it around and beneath Dean's thigh. In response Dean stirred, his legs widening in such a fashion that mad Castiel's throat tighten. He pressed his hand against the inside of Dean's thigh to calm the man, hoping the replacement of the touch would stop him from waking up and discovering Castiel's head and hand were well past the friend zone.

Of course, once Castiel reflected on where he was, a stir of curiosity made him hesitant to vacate the arrangement. What if he..

Castiel slowly inched his fingers up along the inside of Dean's thigh with pressure just enough to be felt. Dean's head rolled against the back of the couch and the man's leg nudged encouragingly against Castiel's weight. It was tempting, more than so. Castiel had to clamp down on the inside of his lip to restrain the desire to let his fingers wander further up the muscular thigh. This was wrong, he told himself. Dean was asleep and what Castiel was doing.. it was.. was it molestation?

Suddenly there was a blast of Metallica and a violent vibrating beneath Castiel and out of sheer surprise his hand tightened just short of Dean's crotch. The semi-grope elicited a heavy exhale from Dean that was on the cusp of a throaty groan that hinged on a sharp inhale. Castiel's lips parted in response as he was struck with the desire to better the position of his hand to make the noise come out stronger, louder. Make it match with the steady thump of pulse Castiel felt resounding low in his abdomen.

The object in Dean's pocket vibrated again and it was with a curse that Dean shifted to retrieve his phone. He didn't push Castiel away, even if it would have been easier to get to his phone if he had. Castiel watched through the reflection on the laptop as the man put the phone to his ear while rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Winchester."

Undistinguishable words came from the phone, male in origin, and whatever he was saying Dean heavily sighed in response.

"Can this wait until later, Sam?"

Dean dropped his hand away from his eyes, lifting his head off the back of the couch to take in the sight of Castiel nuzzled against his thigh. The dark haired specialist did his best not to tense up, but he felt his shoulders firm all the same as he waited for a volatile reaction. Belatedly Castiel realized that Dean could probably see that his eyes were open. Shit, _shit._

"They did? When?" Dean sat up, settling a hand on Castiel's shoulder to gently shake him. "Get up Cas."

Despite being relieved at Dean's subdued reaction, Castiel quickly withdrew and sat rigid. The next moment he was on his feet, rubbing at his own eyes as he made for the kitchen to start the coffee.

"Hm?" Dean was still talking to Sam, "Yeah he's here... What? No, I came over to check on him last night and fell asleep on his couch. Huh? ...Yeah, I guess I can do that - what's the address?"

Castiel was measuring out fresh grounds when Dean slipped up next to him. He caught Castiel's hand mid-scoop, "We'll pick coffee up on the way. We need to go."

Only aware of the warm waft of Dean's breathe against the side of his neck, Castiel couldn't think clearly enough to ask questions. He obeyed, putting the canister away and retreating to his bedroom to get dressed. It wasn't until they were sitting in the Impala that Castiel blinked and turned a puzzled blue-eye look on the detective. "Where are we going?"

"Work," Dean's lips quirked upward in a lazy grin.

"Oh."

Dean chuckled from the other side of the car, "You're one of those people that needs coffee to wake up, aren't you."

"It helps," Castiel disputed Dean's amused tone with a frown.

"So when are you going to notice I'm not driving toward the precinct?"

The frown deepening, Castiel turned to gaze out the window and take in the street names. "...Oh."

"Sam thinks they might have found Kaila, the missing girl."

Instantly Castiel became more alert, but his vocabulary still was suffering. "Oh?"

"Yeah, we're headed to the suspect's house now, Sam said I should bring you along."

"Oh."

"_Oh_, he says, geez Cas, I'll swing through the next starbucks, okay?"

Castiel didn't understand what was so offending about his responses. It's not like he needed to say anything at all. The soft _oh_s were more of his way of letting Dean know he had been heard and understood. Instead of voicing another _oh_ or _ah_, Castiel grunted in acknowledgement. He wouldn't argue that caffeine would help. As Dean turned into the next drive-thru for coffee, Castiel suddenly sat upright and pinned Dean with a wide-eye look.

The detective arched a brow, "What?"

"I forgot to feed Lucifer."

"Who?"

"The cat."

"You named the cat after the Devil."

Castiel's mouth opened to respond with no, he had named it after his ex-boyfriend, but in the end he thought better of blurting that piece of information. He cleared his throat, but it did little to erase the graveled way his words came out, "It seemed appropriate."

"Do you realize it's a girl cat?"

Castiel snorted, "I didn't care to verify its gender."

"You can't call her Lucifer."

"Why not?"

"Because you just can't. You need to name it snowball, angel, or mittens."

Castiel resumed his frown, "I am not a ten year old girl, Dean."

"Well then call her Lucy."

Sighing in defeat - it was much too early in the morning for these silly debates - Castiel resolved to let Dean think he had come out the victor in the conversation. It didn't matter what the cat's name was because it wasn't going to be staying long. Castiel propped an elbow against the door and stared out the window while his mind played out horrors of what he would find upon returning home to the devilish kitten.

"How about.. White Lightning."

Needlessly to say, Castiel ordered an extra two shots of espresso that morning.

* * *

**Things to Know:**  
**1.) **I heart Jackie Chan and Steve Irwin, no disrespect meant.  
**2.) **In one episode, Dean and Sam were arguing about who was the bigger badass; Chuck Norris or Jet Li.  
**3.)** Someone tell Lucifer this is a Destiel story, not Casifer. I let him in and he tries to take over!  
**4.)** It had been my desire for a while now to write a High School AU after my current stories. Now I'm tempted to write a back story of how Castiel and Lucifer met and wound up together. KILL THE PLOT BUNNIES.


	7. O Brother

**Part VII  
O Brother**

"You _what_!?"

Castiel cringed at the volume of Charlie's voice. Her amber-brown eyes were impossibly wide and she seemed ignorant to the way she had drawn attention of the room. They were on scene at the suspect's (a man named Greg Carlson) house but found no sign of the little girl. The man in question was also missing, but all his belongings were at the house along with his vehicle. Sam had burned the midnight oil (seriously, the man was a machine at times) going over the evidence at hand and had found probably cause. It resulted in an early morning wake-up for Balthazar to go get them a search warrant. Castiel didn't know the specifics, it really wasn't his business, he was just there to take samples where the warrant allowed it.

Charlie was there to help seize any electronic devices, mainly to check for hidden child pornography. She stood stooped over the computer, purple latex glove on as she tapped at the keyboard. Only her hands were hovering above the keys as she continued to blink owlishly at him.

Castiel audibly cleared his throat and glanced at the other two techies present. Charlie quickly caught on to the awkwardness of the situation and whisked toward Castiel to hiss under her breath, "Tell me I misheard you. You _what?_"

Seizing his friend by the crook of elbow, Castiel hastily lead her out of the room and out the front door to get away from the majority of the present police force. He stood close to her, whispering while his hands spread in a gesture of innocence. "It's not like I planned it from the start. It was more of spur of the moment thing."

"You randomly decided to _grope the new detective?_"

"Shh-shh!" Castiel bit down on the corner of his lip as he glanced around them in distress. "I didn't grope him. I mean, it was like.. I didn't feel anything? It was just his thigh and.. I don't know Charlie. Does this all sound weird? It's just that.. ugh.. do you think he's just being overly friendly?"

Charlie's brows peaked together in sympathy, "Ellen did make a fuss about wanting your placed watched and he volunteered, but he was just suppose to check in with you, not bring you food or stay over watching movies."

"He also.. got me a kitten."

Once again Charlie's eyes bugged, but this time she left off the verbal outburst. She glanced off toward the house, "That's.. that's actually kind of weird. Dating couples are more likely to adopt a pet, it's like a psychological preparation of having a child together."

Castiel only felt a touch queasy, "I don't know if that is suppose to make me feel better or alarm me."

"Uh," Charlie gave a nervous smile, "Well it's good - I think? I mean, it really sounds like he's trying to win you over."

"But I don't like pets."

"Yeah, that was total bust on his part."

Heaving an exhale, Castiel peeled off his gloves to thread nervous hands through his dark hair. It had been bugging him all morning, or more precisely, once he had downed his first dose of coffee his mind started to positively buzz. He could barely keep focused on work and it only got worse when Dean was in the same room. Castiel would stare intently at whatever sample he was pretending to take ages to gather and he would be too scared to look up even though it felt like Dean was staring right at him.

The tension had been thick enough to cut.

"You really think he.."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "You do this every time Cas. Whenever I tell you a guy is hitting on you, you do this whole thing were you try and logic out excuses to why a guy doesn't like you. I get that you had a bad break-up, but come on, it's time to move on."

He wrung his hands, "I don't know, I just keep feeling like there's something off about it all."

"Probably because you guys work in the same unit? You know what they say about office romance."

Castiel thought it over, then quietly shook his head at Charlie.

"Don't ask me, if I could get Jo to go out for drinks with me, I'd say screw what they say about relationships in the workplace."

"It didn't pan out well for Sam..."

Charlie cut him with a harsh look, "Way to be a total buzz kill."

Castiel tucked his gloves into his belt before planting his hands on his waist. The whole situation exasperated him, and to top it all off he felt like a selfish prick because he was more concerned about his latest interaction with Dean rather than concentrating on the missing girl. "What do you think I should do?"

"Totally hit that?"

Castiel swallowed.

His friend shrugged at him, "Does it really have to be more complicate than that?"

"I - well - I can't just - that's -"

"Well," The redhead cocked her hip to one side, "How long have you been single now?"

He grimaced, "About a year?"

"And what's holding you back?"

Castiel felt his shoulders slump, "I'm not exactly eager to jump into another relationship. I was with Nick for over _ten_ years."

"And as I understand it, the bastard totally bailed on you. So stop making excuses like you need to keep yourself available like one day he's going to jump back into your life."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as a familiar headache began to throb behind his eyes. He didn't like to talk about it, because despite it being months - a god damn _year_ - since Lucifer left, the wound it left was still raw. It hadn't been the perfect relationship, but had been the only one Castiel had ever known. He had never needed to know how to move on, never had learned how to deal with having his heart broken. Hell, he didn't even know how other people went about the thing known as dating. "Fine, but what should I say?"

"You do know who are asking advice from, right?" Charlie's smile was a touch sad. "How about you start off with hi."

Castiel leveled Charlie with a look - which had absolutely no effect on her. Instead she smiled, raised her hand and waved to someone just behind Castiel, "Hey Dean."

"Charlie," came the detective's casual reply.

The blood drained from Castiel's features. Very slowly he turned to take in the sight of Dean standing next to one of the patrol cars and was looking in their direction. There was no way Castiel could know how long the man had been standing there, or how much he had overhead of the conversation.

"We were just talking about you," Charlie chimed.

Castiel's stomach plummeted and he glared at his traitorous friend.

"Were you now?" Dean teased and Castiel felt himself heat up as those vivid green eyes swung onto him.

"Mhm, and it just so happens that Castiel has something he wants to ask you."

With that, Charlie took her leave, but not first without shooting a smile and wink at Castiel's vehement glare. Dean walked over, assuming Charlie's vacated space. He brushed his jacket away from his waist to mirror the way Castiel stood with hands on either side of his hips. "What's up?"

Say something witty! - Wait, don't, it never came out as funny as it sounded in his head.

Play it cool.

And totally don't think about that morning, especially with wandering thoughts of how things might have played out different if not for the phone call from Sam. Castiel swallowed. Too late for those wayward images. He turned his blue gaze aside, trying to relax in posture, but only feeling his shoulders square and his brow frown pensively. "Do you.. "

Several more starters staggered from Castiel's lips before he gave up. It was clear to him, and it always had been, that flirting with someone to earn their favor was not his cup of tea. The only man in his life had been Lucifer, and Lucifer had come after him, not the other way around. It was easier to be single before Castiel grew up and knew all about sex. Now he had cravings and no outlet. And flirting to him came as easily as flying did to a lemming flinging itself off a cliff.

"Did you find anything about the girl?"

Despite Castiel feeling that he had once again set himself up to crash and burn, he knew that work was a safe topic. It was factual and didn't depend on whether or not Dean found him attractive. It may have just been his imagination trying to inspire hope, but Castiel could have sworn that Dean looked disappointed by the question.

"Not yet," Dean scanned the scene. "We put out an A.P.B on Greg Carlson, Sam already left to check his place of work, and I sent a couple officers to canvas the neighborhood."

Castiel took the information in with a faint tilt of head, then he was turning to head back toward the house while slipping hands back into latex gloves.

"Cas."

Halting a couple paces away, Castiel abruptly pivoted to look back at the befuddled detective.

"Is that what you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh.."

The man's lips twitched in a fleeting smile, "Back to the _ohs_, huh?"

Castiel cleared his throat, "I.. " His gaze couldn't seem to rise past the button on Dean's jacket. Charlie had never specified what she wanted him to ask Dean. Castiel blundered over what he could possibly phrase into a question that wouldn't leave him swimming in a sea of awkward. "I need a ride back to my apartment."

"You're asking for a lift?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Castiel's voice seemed to grumble over the barely audible words. In the back of his mind he was already setting himself up for disappointment, assuring himself that he could catch a ride to the precinct with one of the other technicians. After that he could call Charlie for a ride home.

"Sure thing, Cas, you going to be done soon?"

Recalling his work, Castiel turned back around to head toward the back of the house. "Give me thirty minutes."

* * *

Thirty minutes turned into three hours.

As the sun peaked high over head, Castiel continued to poor over the task at hand - cataloguing trash. It started with the simple desire of wanting to verify if the missing girl, Kaila, had been at the house at all. The clue could have been a single piece of trash, perhaps something that normally wouldn't be found in a bachelor's trash. Food bought for a little girl - maybe a toy. Even a receipt could provide a piece of insight to better help the detectives.

The officers on duty snorted at the sight of Castiel digging and sorting the man's trash, but Castiel didn't let their condescending looks discourage him. The only reason he continued to carefully pick through the garbage was because of the nagging feeling that he was missing something that was hidden right in front of him.

A warm hand set on his shoulder, jarring Castiel from his inner musings. He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his wrist as he stood from his crouch. Next to him stood an uncertain Dean. The detective rubbed at the back of his neck, "You planning to make a full day out of this?"

Castiel frowned, pivoting just enough to survey his work - half of it neatly packed into evidence bags.

"I mean.. " Dean glanced over the mess. "If you want to stay here and do this, that's fine, but I need to get going. So if you wanted that ride.."

Castiel almost told Dean to leave without him. Then a mental voice (that sounded oddly like Charlie) scolded him for being a wimp. After motioning for Dean to wait just a moment, Castiel handed off the last of the evidence bags to a fellow worker before returning. He kept his silence, merely nodding his head to the detective and following him to the Impala.

The silence between them only became that much more stifling when the doors closed. The drive back to his apartment was serenaded with the best hits of the 80s quietly filling in the background. Once or twice Castiel stole a quick side-long glance at Dean. The detective either was concentrating on the traffic, or was off in his own land of brooding. Castiel couldn't tell.

He should probably say something about that morning - right?

Castiel fully turned his head toward Dean, lips parting to speak. The air was drawn into his lungs, but as Dean's sea-green eyes swung to meet his own, Castiel lost his nerve and resolved to stare out the window. On second thought, it was probably better to pretend it never happened.

The Impala pulled into a parking spot nearest to Castiel's apartment building. Feeling all sorts of pathetic, Castiel didn't even bother with a parting word before pushing open the door and escaping onto the sidewalk. The door closed behind him, an echo of his inner defeat – and then a second door closed and Castiel dared a glance over his shoulder to see Dean approaching.

The confusion must have shown on Castiel's features, because the detective met his gaze just long enough to explain, "Forgot my wallet this morning."

_Ah_, Castiel's mouthed the sound and lead the way upstairs. As he loosed his keys from his pocket, Castiel became keenly aware of how close Dean had crept. Suddenly Castiel couldn't find the right key and his eyes continued to try and stray back to Dean's face. Then there was a hand pressing into the jamb and Castiel forgot all about unlocking the door. The front of Dean's chest brushed against the back of his shoulders.

"I was hoping..."

Dean's voice came out low and Castiel did his best to redirect his thoughts on the keys dangling from his fingers.

"You might ask me for more than just a ride home."

Castiel stared at the hand planted almost directly in front of him. The implication purring deeply within Dean's tone sent Castiel's mind reeling despite his efforts to scramble for control. He had to ask, to verify, even it took him several moments to find his tongue, "Like?"

"Like, " Lips brushed the shell of his ear and Castiel's mind went blank. "Whether or not I'd like to continue with what you started this morning."

The detective was just screwing with him - had to be. There had to be a hidden joke like _oh_, he meant the coffee. The keys slipped from Castiel's fingers. Reflexively he tried to catch them, which resulted in him neatly smacking his head off his front door. "_Fuck_."

"Well I was thinking of starting off light, but if you want to get right down to it," Dean teased right on cue.

The jest fell on deaf ears, because Castiel was frozen where he was stopped over the threshold. His blue eyes were fixated on the gap between his front door and the jamb. His door was open. _Open_. It should have been locked - he always locked it. Yet here he was again, his damn door left ajar. Castiel recoiled from the door, pressing himself flat against the brace of Dean's legs.

"Whoa Cas, a bit eager there - mind waiting until we get inside first?"

Castiel would have scrambled down the hallway if not for Dean's hand catching his collar. It only took a glance between Castiel's panic stricken features and the open door for the detective to clue in to the situation. His side arm was soon in hand and with a gruff _stay back_ shot at Castiel, he pushed into the apartment with his pistol muzzle leading the way.

Loathed to lose the safety he felt in Dean's calm, controlled presence, Castiel nervously crept after the man. His gaze frantically scanned the interior, expecting to find everything in disarray. Instead the room before him was just as he left it that morning, including the books left stacked by the wall. A hope fluttered in Castiel's chest - maybe whoever had broken into his place had already come and gone.

Dean made the turn into the kitchen, freezing on the spot and Castiel caught the way his gun tilted upward - toward the ceiling to avoid pointing at what? Castiel edged around to peer into the kitchen, his eyes widening at the sight.

"The hell you doing here?" Dean demanded, the words sounding off considering the situation.

The man, dressed in a black three piece suit with a matching trench. His hair was neatly kept back with gel, making the dark inky strands glisten under the kitchen lights. He arched a brow at Dean and continued to poke at what was left of Castiel's leftover Chinese. The man's pale blue eyes flick dismissively over Dean before shifting to Castiel. "I fed your cat."

Castiel thoughts stumbled over one another and he didn't know how he should feel at the present moment. "Thank you."

"You know this guy?" Dean asked while holstering his pistol.

Clearing his throat, Castiel made a vague gesture toward the sharply dressed man. "This is my brother, Michael."

"Your brother. Your _brother._"

Castiel directed a questioning look on the detective, but Dean's narrowed look remained settled on Michael. The two were having a stare off and Castiel couldn't help but feel that he was missing a key component. Much like how he had been earlier, staring at the trash as if it held a hidden clue. He cleared his throat again, but it did nothing to remove the gravel from his tone. "Michael, this is—"

"Dean Winchester," Michael supplied before Castiel could finish. Not once did his brother spare a glance to him, just kept on staring back at the detective. "You've been through - how many districts is it now - three, or is this your fourth precinct? That history of yours just keeps getting swept under the rug, doesn't it."

Dean's expression was beginning to turn murderous. Castiel sighed heavily before trying to forge a peace, "Did I mention my brother is a Fed?"

"Oh, don't worry, I could smell this government piece of shit the moment we walked in the door." Dean sneered.

"Dean here," Michael calmly spoke as if Dean hadn't said a thing. "Has a history of getting too personal with vics."

"You shut your mouth you son of a bitch."

"Seems to get off on people relying on him to protect them," Michael continued after a pause to take another bite of food. "When internal affairs starts poking into his business, Dean puts in for a transfer."

At some point during the conversation - if it could be called that - Castiel had slumped onto one of the stools next to the breakfast bar. Somehow he had known anything that he was seeing between him and Dean was too good to be true. Still, it really pissed him off that after years of his brother not talking to him, he shows up out of the blue to start this shit. Castiel would swear his brother had some kind of sixth sense. He had never approved of Lucifer - never accepted that Castiel was attracted to men instead of women. For a long time his brother had tried to drill it into Castiel's head that it was all a phase.

Castiel's gaze wandered over to Dean, feeling his heart sink. He wanted to ask if what Michael was saying held truth (considering Michael's resources being part of the FBI, it was hard to dispute it). Did Dean really just use his badge to take advantage of the people he was trying to help?

Somehow it seemed to fit with the detective's arrogance.

Fit more as Dean did little but glare to refute Michael's words.

When Dean finally met Castiel's lingering gaze, the detective only met the look a moment before dipping his chin in toward his chest. A sure sign of guilt. Fan-fucking-tastic. Castiel began shaking his head at the man in sheer disbelief. Little could have made Castiel feel more foolish, except Michael's patronizing presence.

Castiel checked his pocket for his phone and went to his bedroom, leaving the two assholes in his kitchen.

It wasn't long after that Castiel heard the front door open and close - Dean left.

Michael tried to talk to him, lightly knocking on his door. When Castiel gave no response, his brother sighed then murmured, "I'm going to be in town for a time. We'll talk later."

Castiel was once again alone. Almost. It wasn't long before Castiel heard clawing at the underside of his door. He rolled onto his side to view the play of shadow on the other side of his door. Lucifer. Castiel's eyes narrowed with thought. Michael.. his brother was always at odds with Lucifer. It had been that way ever since High School. The two were the same age. One had grown up to become an F.B.I agent, the other had become what the government labeled as a terrorist.

Needlessly to say, the two didn't get along, and then there was Castiel right smack in the middle of the two.

But.. if Michael was there in town...

Castiel rolled onto his back and drew his phone up to his face, quickly bringing up Lucifer's number. He stared at it for a long time until he mentally shrugged. Why the hell not? It's not like he had anything else going for him. Castiel pressed send, his nerves bouncing all over the place as he put the phone to his ear. Each unanswered ring help to sink Castiel's mood further into despair.

Then, at the very end, the line picked up.

_"Helloo~?"_

But it wasn't Lucifer's voice.

".. uh, hello?"

_"Cassie, it been ages, sorry to say but Lucy isn't home."_

Sighing, Castiel dragged a hand down his tiring features. "Gabriel."

_"Bingo. So touching you haven't forgotten me after all this time. You know just because Lucy is a bag a dicks and fled the states doesn't mean the rest of us dropped off the face of the planet."_

Castiel contemplated how difficult it would be to smother himself with his pillow. He hadn't forgotten about Gabriel. Alright, maybe he had, because being around Lucifer's younger brother just reminded him of his loss.

_"I take it by the silence coming from your end you feel like a jerk. Good. Now, did you want me to get a message to Lucy?"_

"Ah, no.. "

_".. Right, you just called his phone to not talk to him."_

"Why do you have his phone?"

_"Because Lucy thinks I'm his personal secretary, which entails me keeping his phones charged. Now what do you want me to write down? How about... miss you, let's fuck."_

Castiel scowled unseen, his expression smoothing soon afterward. "Do you mean he's.. back?"

_"In jail, actually."_

"What!?"

_"How sweet, you do still care. Don't fret Cassie, it's just a DUI, and you know how it goes. They're going to try to keep him in there as long as they can trying to pin him for everything under the sun. He'll be out soon enough."_

Castiel drew a pillow up to his chest, afraid to ask the next question. "How long has he been back?"

_"Uhm.. listen Cass, maybe you want to go out for drinks sometime and we'll talk about it."_

"I don't think that's a good idea.. Michael's in town."

_"Right, well, don't be a stranger."_

"Do me a favor... don't tell him I called."

* * *

_**Things to Know:**_  
_**1.)** Because I forgot to say it last chapter, Nick was the name of Lucifer's vessel in the show._  
_**2.) **Michael is a total cock-block._  
_**3.) **Castiel was fifteen when he hooked up with Lucifer._  
_**4.)** Gabriel is Lucifer's younger brother in this fic, the same age as Castiel in fact._  
_**5.)** You guys rock!_


	8. Overload

**Part VIII  
Overload  
**

Castiel didn't sleep much that night.

When his eyelids did fall to a close, he spent two fitful hours in a light doze before knocking jerked him back awake. Red eyes gazed blearily at the digital clock telling him it was a quarter to seven. The faint light filtering in through the pulled curtains told him that it was seven in the _morning_ and he only had an hour to get ready for work.

The knocking persisted.

Wrapping his comforter around his shoulders, Castiel set his feet on the cold floorboards of his bedroom with a shiver. He made an unhurried shuffle to his front door and checked the peep hole. A grumble instantly started up in the back of his throat as he viewed his brother in the hallway. It would do no good to ignore him, pretend he wasn't home, because one way or another Michael had gotten into his apartment yesterday evening. Castiel wouldn't put it past his brother to do it again.

Flicking open the locks, Castiel pulled the door open and leveled Michael with a grim look.

"I see you're still not much of a morning person," Michael said by way of greeting, stepping in past Castiel, leaving his younger brother to close the door and follow him into the kitchen.

A gruff Castiel watched blankly as Michael began messing with the coffee pot. Making himself at home as if he hadn't shunned his little brother for several years. Not so much as a phone call on birthdays had been exchanged between them. Michael had lost the right to act brotherly toward him. Yet Castiel couldn't find it in himself to kick Michael out. Even if their relationship had become estranged, Michael was still his brother. Castiel had always been willing to forgive and forget. Regardless of the circumstances, it was good to see Michael again.

A hug, however, would be far too awkward.

Castiel leaned against the doorway of his kitchen, blanket still curled around his lean frame, and continued to watch his brother with no small amount of suspicion, "Why are you here?"

"I'm not allowed to visit my only brother?"

"Not when you've refused to talk to him for the last few years."

"I heard about the break in," Michael commented as if not noticing Castiel's scowl. "I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Castiel's fingers curled into his blanket. He knew it was bullshit, but a part of him - a part that longed for the comfort that came from family - wanted to believe it. "Where were you when my car broke down forty miles outside the city. I really could have used a brother then."

The words opened up a wound Castiel had thought was healed over the course of time. Hurt welled up in his chest as he surveyed his brother's stoic features. It was a manner of coping with emotions that they both shared. They both just shut it out. Castiel probably would have been more indifferent as well if not for the last few days of chaos and running on very little sleep. Right then he couldn't seem to bite back his tongue, "Or fuck, where were you when Mom died and I was left to take care of everything by myself. Making the arrangements, going there here _stuff_–"

"I was on a case," Michael sternly replied without turning around. "I had more important things on my plate at the time."

Castiel's jaw firm and he shook his head. He averted his gaze while rapidly blinking to keep the sting in his eyes from manifesting into tears. He could still remember what it felt like standing there in the chill of the autumn morning and watching the casket be lowered into the ground. His eyes had been dry then, his mind in state close to shock as he watched the first throws of dirt hit the lid of her coffin.

It would have been nice if his brother had been there to at least stand next to him that morning.

"Why are you here, Michael? Because I don't believe for one god damn moment you're here for me."

"Castiel," Michael's voice warned.

"Fuck you, Michael." Castiel tiredly rubbed at his eyes with the blanket, hoping Michael didn't see the small wet spots dotting the fabric. "Lucifer isn't here. I'm sure you're well aware of the fact that we broke up and I haven't had any contact with him since then."

"That's not–"

"Then why else are you here? Please," Castiel's snarled. "I'm all ears."

"I'm... concerned... for you."

Castiel rolled his eyes, losing a corner of the blanket when he threw a hand toward the ceiling in frustrating. "You know what, Michael, I need to get ready for work. So if you would see yourself out, that'd be great."

"Would you listen if I told you to stay away from Winchester?"

"I'm not sleeping with him Michael," Castiel growled, barely able to keep his tone level. "Besides I work with him, it's a bit fucking hard to avoid a guy I work with."

He didn't bother asking _why _Michael wanted him to stay away from Dean. If Dean had been a girl, Castiel was certain Michael wouldn't be troubled by it. Leaving the comforter in the hallway between the kitchen and living room, Castiel stalked off to the bathroom and slammed the door. He didn't bother to check whether or not his brother was going to leave, just turned the water on full blast to drown out any other sound. He didn't need this. On top of everything else he didn't need this shit.

When Castiel got out of the shower, a mug of coffee and the carton of creamer had been left on the counter for him.

Castiel ended up being late to work, which earned a stern look from Singer. Castiel stone-walled the detective with a scowl and didn't bother to greet the older man. He went straight into his small, cluttered office while pretending he couldn't see Dean glancing his way from where he leaned against Sam's desk, chatting amiably with his partner.

Castiel slammed the door of his office.

Not an hour later he was sitting in Ellen's office like a child sent to the principal's office. He tried not to glower, he really did, but under Ellen's steady gaze Castiel's jaw continued to tighten. He felt like the whole ordeal was a bit unfair, because he had never caused trouble at work. Shouldn't he get a first time warning before there was talk of writing him up?

"Cas," Ellen leaned back against her desk while crossing her arms. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Ellen didn't look convinced, "You've worked here for nearly four years and have never stepped a foot out of line. Today you come in looking like you're going to lob off the heads of my detectives."

Castiel lifted fingers to his lips, pushing his lower lip in between his teeth to lightly chew at the chapped skin. He stared down at the corner of Ellen's desk and wondered if he could keep his silence and she could just give him a stern talking to, a slap on the wrists, and send him on his way.

"You either talk to me, or I'll set you up with Tran."

Guess not, "I'm just having a rough time - had family drop by unexpectedly and my place is still a wreck from the break-in."

"Well do you think you can keep all that under wrap?"

It felt like Castiel had been punted in the gut. It wasn't as if he had the convoluted idea that Ellen actually wanted to hear about his problems. She hadn't made chief and given her own squadron because she had a sympathetic ear. Castiel closed his eyes and gave the woman a curt nod.

"Good, because we need you here Castiel. We're running out of time and leads. You had the others haul in two whole bags of trash that the other technicians won't touch because they're afraid you'll bite their heads off. So I need you to get your head into the game and get things done. Stay late if needed, but I want it all done tonight and the if you find anything substantial I want you to call me right away."

That was how Castiel ended up staying late in the lab laboring over two tables full of bagged garbage. Some of his co-workers had said goodbyes as they went home for the night, but Castiel did little but lift his chin in acknowledgement to their voices. It was only when Castiel's eyes began to hurt from staring at the catalogued results in a computer monitor did he notice that all the lights outside the lab had been turned off. The clock on the wall read ten fifteen and Castiel collapsed backward into his chair while rubbing both hands over his face.

A loud rumble erupted from his stomach, likely not for the first time but now that Castiel wasn't engrossed with his work he had no choice but to acknowledge the fact that he had nothing but coffee all day. It took some fishing around the office, but Castiel put together enough change to support a trip to the vending machine. He recounted his changed as he walked the hall, pausing when the hum and flicker of a television screen caught his attention. Thinking someone had forgotten to turn it off, Castiel wandered over to the side room, but froze after the first step inside.

Dean sat slouched in an uncomfortable metal folding chair. His jacket missing and his tie loosened and flipped back over his shoulder. His tired features jerked up to blink at Castiel in the doorway. His face looked pale, gray in the light of the glowing screen. Castiel skirted Dean's gaze, adverting his line of sight to the screen to view the surveillance videos of the intersection near the suspect's house.

Sniffing at the air, Castiel's head swiveled to the take-out food left spread on the desk. His blue eyes lingered on the left over fries and he absently licked his lips.

"Jesus Christ," Dean softly exclaimed as he checked his watch. "Is it already that late?"

Castiel drew back, tucking his chin in toward his chest as he spared one last fleeting glance at Dean. He clutched the coins in his hand, turned and made for the vending machine at the end of the hall. He didn't want to talk to Dean. As he was making his selection of potato chips from the vending machine, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was being watched. Castiel ignored it, instead doubling to fetch his chips and head back toward the lab. Dean stood in the doorway of the office room, intently watching him as he passed.

Castiel ignored him, not so much as looking back over his shoulder when he heard the detective sigh. It didn't matter. Castiel didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't worth the trouble of discussing. Wishful thinking, Castiel realized, because even if he was resolving to forget everything that had transpired the other day, Dean was not privy to these thoughts. Castiel had just opened his bag of chips when the detective cleared the air from the doorway of the lab.

"If you're concerned about me repeating what Michael said about you," Castiel spoke in a level tone without bothering to look back at the detective. "Don't be. I won't say anything - it's none of my business."

Dean again cleared his throat, this time taking two small steps into the lab. "Actually, I uh.. "

The words came out soft, nervous, and Castiel couldn't resist the urge to spin around in the chair and peer inquisitively at the normally cock-sure detective.

"I didn't have to work late," Dean's hands slid into his pockets. "I was actually trying to work up the courage to come in here and talk to you."

Damn if those few words didn't make Castiel's expression soften. All the same, he couldn't let himself fall into the same trap - to be fooled twice. He firmed his jaw, "I don't want to talk."

"I think I owe you an explanation."

Dean looked so sincere, it was hard to say no. Castiel shook his head anyway, standing to move over to the evidence table. The turn of back was dismissal enough in his opinion.

"Cas," The detective pleaded, not getting the 'go away' memo, and came up behind Castiel. "Give me a chance. What your brother said–"

"It's none of my business, Dean."

"Just," Dean spoke firmly while staring down at Castiel's profile from a mere foot away. "Let me finish."

"No," Castiel growled as he spun around to glare up at the detective. "I've learned the hard way, that whatever it is you do that might be considered illegal, _I don't want to know_. Don't make me an accomplice."

Puzzlement creased along Dean's brow.

"So please, just.. let me get back to my work."

As Castiel turned back to his work, his attempt was cut short by the detective's hands cupping either side of his face. Castiel flicked widened eyes up to the other man fa'ce. Dean pale green eyes brimmed with determination, "I know I'm not the greatest guy. I've done some shit I'm not proud of. I've fucked up, I've made mistakes, but give me a fucking chance before you decide to hate me."

Castiel's lips parted on words unknown. Dean seemed to take those parted lips as invitation, because he dipped down to claim Castiel's mouth in a heated kiss. Castiel's lips moved on their own accord, matching the intensity that in one felled swoop fanned a small flame into an all consuming blaze. Castiel's hands pulled at Dean's shirt like a man starved. He pulled the fabric free of Dean's pants and attempted to rip it right off the detective. He didn't get far, not without popping off the buttons, and if not for the span of warm skin and tightly corded muscles beneath his fingertips, Castiel might have not been so distracted to do just that.

Dean's hand caught him around the waist and pushed him back to the table, lifting him up the inch needed to sit Castiel on the edge. Then he drew away, breaking their kiss and drawing a needful noise from Castiel. The smaller man spread his legs, allowing the detective to slot himself between them. Castiel curled his legs around the back of Dean's thighs to pull him as close as possible. Dean gifted him with a brief press of lips, nipping on his lower one before drawing away far enough to hastily work on the pesky buttons.

"Lost one," He said breathlessly, passing his thumb over the button-less sting left on the bottom of his shirt. He broke out in a grin, one that Castiel returned lopsidedly while impatiently starting on the top buttons. When Dean's dress shirt finally opened, the detective wasted no time in pressing Castiel flat on the table despite the smaller man's attempt to completely remove the shirt from him. Evidence bags scattered and the sound of the plastic hitting the tiled floor woke Castiel out of his lust filled haze.

"No, _no_," He murmured even as hands continued to bunch the fabric of Dean's shirt. "Stop."

Dean growled against side of Castiel's neck, "Why?"

"Not here," He didn't care anymore about the details. He wanted this, and wanted it now. Just – "Not on the table. The evidence."

"Oh," Dean's warmth exhale caressed Castiel's neck. Teeth followed afterward, grazing over the sensitive flesh. "Right. Don't want to.. " The stilted words made it clear that Castiel wasn't the only one having a hard time thinking. "Don't want to contaminate it?"

"Yeah," Castiel needlessly nodded. "Yeah.."

"Floor?"

Castiel actually considered it for a half second before shaking his head.

Dean made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, "My desk."

The mental image of shoving papers and pencil cups out of the way as Dean bent him over the desk momentarily halted any form of rational thought. Dean was already back to lavishing attention on Castiel's exposed throat, which made it all that much harder to think. Castiel's pulse raced beneath the press of Dean's mouth. Any other time and place Castiel would have been too reserved to even humor the ideas speeding through his mind. He had never been much of an adventurous type - there always had to be someone else there acting as a catalyst to make him behave so out of the box. In this situation, Dean was his source of influence - one that made the idea of having sex at work sound like a fucking fabulous idea.

"Shouldn't - not at work." He'd never be able to concentrate again if they did.

"Come on Cas," Lust made Dean's voice husky, "Live a little."

Castiel's eyes widened.

* * *

_"Nick!"_

_Castiel crowded the older boy, scanning the dark school grounds under the dip of his hood. His heart was racing and what he really wanted to do was run away - fast and far. He actively chewed on his lower lip while glancing down at the bolt cutters Lucifer was currently using to cut the lock keeping the side door of the gym closed._

_"Nick, we shouldn't be here. This is - this is against so many rules."_

_Lucifer smiled up at him, musically quoting, "Any fool can make a rule, and every fool will mind it."_

_"We're going to get in trouble–"_

_"Only if we're caught."_

_Castiel couldn't argue with that logic. "Come on, let's just go."_

_A sharp click severed the lock and as it tumbled away to the dirt beneath their shoes, Lucifer spun to face him. "What are you so afraid of?"_

_"I don't want to get in trouble."_

_"What's the worst that can happen?"_

_Castiel had to pause to think it over, "Suspension from school?"_

_"Is that the end of the world?"_

_"No, but–"_

_"Then what's there to be scared about?"_

_Castiel could do little but frown in response. Lucifer smiled at him, a gentle expression that did well to take the edge off Castiel's frantic nerves. The older boy reached up and squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. The same hand grazed his pale cheek with fingertips. "Live a little, Castiel. Let yourself be free. It's not as scary as you think it is. Now, grab the spray paint and let's do this."_

* * *

Such a simple phrase of peer pressure, and Castiel found himself steeling beneath Dean's dominating weight. The words shocked his system, because there had been so many times he had been told that phrase, or something similar to it, when Lucifer was talking him into doing something he didn't want to do. Castiel always crumbled so easily to it - but he had grown. He had learned from his mistakes. He had learned to say _no_.

"No," He transferred the word from his thoughts to reality. "Not here."

Dean planted his hands on either side of Castiel's waist as he drew back. His green eyes heatedly met Castiel's dark blue orbs. They warred with each other through the look until finally Dean withdrew with a sigh. "Alright. I'm sorry." His hands drew along Castiel's thighs, gently squeezing at the top of his knee in apology. "Where do you want to go?"

"Home."

The detective didn't look thrilled at the idea, "You sure your dick Fed of a brother isn't going to be there?"

"I'll kick him out," Castiel grumbled.

"Fine - but we're taking my car."

Castiel grimaced, "I can't leave my car here, people will ask questions."

Another frustrated growl sounded from the detective.

"I'll meet you at my place," Castiel murmured as he awkwardly climbed off the table. He glanced at the evidence bags scattered across the floor. Wanted to pick them up and re-arrange them back on the table but considering the impatience rolling off Dean in near tangible waves, Castiel figured he wouldn't further pull at the tiger's tail.

Dean chewed over the situation a long moment before he grumbled out a short _fine_ and leaned forward to steal a kiss that was oddly tender in comparison to the primal way he had been trying to devour him a moment earlier. It was a kiss that Castiel recognized as a promise to see each other later - to miss each other while apart. Castiel stared after the detective as he left. His mind began to whirl, once again uncertain when he didn't have Dean's confidence there to guide him. Quickly shaking the insecurity away, Castiel gathered his things and locked the doors as he exited the building.

As he climbed into his car, Castiel wondered if he had time to swing through the nearest drive-thru, because Christ on a pogo stick, he was starving.

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **Don't be too quick to cast judgment on Michael._  
_**2.) **I didn't know their mom died until Castiel blurted it out while I was writing._  
_**3.) **I'm not apologetic about writing the snippets of Castiel and Lucifer. They have a long history. It's insightful._  
_**4.) **To those that professed their addiction to this story, be so kind to hand over your souls, they now belong to me._  
_**5.) **P.S. I love you all._


	9. The Compromise

**Part IX  
The Compromise**

As the elevator traveled between third and fourth floor, Castiel hastily bolted down the rest of the fries he had purchased from Burger King. He was licking the grease and salt from his fingers when the doors slid open. The empty carton was tossed into the nearby receptacle, and Castiel habitually glanced at himself in the mirror hanging across from the elevator doors. His hair was doing those annoying cow-lick flip ups all over the place. Castiel blamed Michael, purely for the fact that because of his brother his morning had been rushed and there had been no time to use some product to tame the unruly strands. There were also dark circles under Castiel eyes that were rimmed in red from staring at slides all day.

Altogether Castiel didn't think he made for a very attractive image.

Castiel ran desperate fingers through the inky strands a few times before giving up hope on his disobedient hair. It was show time - the moment of truth. Castiel straightened his tie and shirt collar, squared his shoulders, and headed out and down the hallway. At the far end he saw Dean standing beside his apartment door. The mere sight of the detective started a nervous flutter in Castiel's heart.

The distance closed one step at a time. The excitement and apprehension flooding his senses made the moment feel like it was prom night all over again, stretching into a seamless moment of nervous eternity. Castiel keenly watched Dean's expression for sign of approval. It should have been telling enough that the detective was there at all despite Castiel's little side trip. Yet Castiel couldn't shake the uncertain twist to his thoughts. Dean's expression wasn't revealing to his inner thoughts, and Castiel began to wonder if the detective had changed his mind after the rush of the original lust-fueled moment had passed.

Oh man – _fuck_ – this was a mistake, a big mistake –

"What took you so long?"

Castiel's mouth fished, opening and closing as he tried to work out an explanation over the insecurity shaking his thoughts. Dean leaned close and Castiel snapped his mouth closed. It took a moment for his mind to register that Dean was sniffing at the air.

"Did you-" Dean gently took Castiel's chin, tilted it up and sniffed again, "-stop somewhere to eat?"

Castiel's jaw tensed, "Your mouth tasted like fries. It made me really hungry."

To his relief, Dean softly chuckled and tugged Castiel forward to plant a quick peck on his lips. "Dork."

Castiel once again found his mind going blank and he responded by doing little more than stare at the detective. Even well after Dean released his chin, and just fixed him with a bemused look, Castiel continued to gawk. He could hardly believe he was lucky enough to have the handsome detective right outside his apartment, stealing a light kiss from him as if they had been dating for months. It was a step forward for Castiel. After a year of inwardly wallowing about his long time boyfriend bailing on him, Castiel was finally moving on.

"Cas.. "

The day dream look cleared just enough for Castiel to let out an airy, "Yes?"

"Are you going to unlock the door?"

Heat crept up the side of Castiel's neck. He was quick to pivot and hide himself in the imaginary space between his door and the jamb next to it. Huddled there, with shoulders raised, as he fumbled with his keys. He checked the knob before he put the key to first lock, relieved to find his apartment just how he left it that morning - namely that they were still locked.

Dean's hand snaked around his waist and Castiel nearly dropped the keys. He managed to unlock the dead bolt, but as he jammed the key into the knob, Castiel's hand slipped. He palmed the wood of the door to keep from being pressed flush against it due to Dean leaning into him. The detective slipped his hand under Castiel's rumpled shirt that had been left undone from their earlier encounter. There fingertips curled against Castiel's tightened abdomen before wandering up as far as the buttoned fabric would allow.

Castiel bit into the flesh of his hand to keep from making any sounds. The reaction had little to do with the fact they were in the hallway and neighbors were likely to overhear such a tell-tale sound. It had everything to do with being conditioned to stay quiet. When he was younger it had started with less than tactful make-out sessions that had gotten heavy and having to cover his own mouth to make sure his parents or brother didn't hear him through the walls. His ex had a habit of climbing into his window in the middle of the night; being quiet was always necessary. Of course, Lucifer had always taken it as a challenge, and damn if the man didn't take enjoyment out of biding his time to manipulate each and every sound out of Castiel - slowly making him unravel into complete submission.

Dean seemed to be of a similar mindset, because even though Castiel did little to encourage the wandering hand, the detective was intimately aware of the way Castiel was resisting. The tensing of muscles, the hitching of breath, and the utter inability to do anything other than brace himself against the door. Inside, they needed to get inside. Castiel blindly reached down to fumble with the key and the knob to little success. It was Dean's free hand that finally came through for sanctity of the hallway and Castiel's neighbors. The detective had much more motor control functionality while under pressure than Castiel, because it only took Dean one twist to get the knob unlocked and for the door to swing open.

Castiel stumbled forward in a twist of limbs as he attempted to turn about to face the detective. His hands didn't know what to do, first he grabbed at Dean to make sure he didn't stray, pulling the man into a clumsy kiss as he tried to remove his own clothing and Deans at the same time. Inwardly Castiel laughed at himself, chiding his eagerness after being in such a long dry spell. He should conduct himself with more composure than this.

Perhaps he might have thought about taking his time if there weren't already hands divesting him of his overcoat and working on loosening his tie. Dean struggled with the knot and Castiel was about to suggest he leave the tie on when Dean turned his head toward the living room. "You got a new tv?"

"No," Castiel responded absently while trying to draw Dean's lips back to his own.

"You got it fixed?"

Here Castiel blinked - who the hell cared about the television! - then growled his frustration, "No."

As he stared at the detective's face, Castiel became aware of the change in lighting. A shift from bright to dark and an constant flickering that could only be attributed to a playing television. His attention swiveled appropriately to the living room to see that indeed not only was there a tv on, but it had also doubled in size. A pair of socked feet were poking out from over the arm of the couch.

Damn it all, if Michael thought he was crashing here—!

Stalking over to the couch, Castiel readied himself to nastily tell his older brother to get lost. He rounded the back of the couch and froze at the sight that greeted him. He literally halted on the spot as if weighted in lead and would have sworn he felt his heart come to a screeching halt as well. All systems malfunctioning. The only thing that did seem to work were Castiel's eyes, and the dark blue orbs scanned the man sleeping on his couch from head to two several times.

Lucifer.

And on his chest, curled and also sleeping, mini-Lucifer.

Traitorous cat, Castiel griped to himself as his features slowly shifted from shock, to vexation, to discontent. It was decided, his apartment was the nexus of everything plotting to give him a psychological breakdown. Seriously. There were issues in his past that he didn't handle well, and this week everything was getting dredged up from the metaphorical lake he had sunk them and being thrown sopping wet into his lap. Then there was the little fact that everyone was coming and going in his apartment like he was having an open house. Christ. He was getting the locks changed first thing tomorrow.

Dean came up behind Castiel, took one glance at the man on the couch before turning on the nearby lamp. As the light flooded the room, casting light to Lucifer's dozing features, Castiel couldn't help but notice the detective's hand resting on his gun. A nervous twinge drew Castiel's gaze back to Dean's expression before he edged between the two men in hopes of keeping the situation from escalating into violence.

It wasn't easy dating a high profile criminal.

Lucifer wasn't on the FBI's most wanted list, but only because they couldn't pin him with any crime. Not for lack of trying of course. Lucifer always managed to walk free like an untouchable mafia don. Dean shot a glare at Castiel, and the dark haired man let his gaze fall to the floor in guilt. He didn't know exactly what Dean might be mad at him for, but there were plenty of plausible theories he could toss on the table.

"You're home," Lucifer's soft voice sent a chill down Castiel's spine. It was good to hear, too good, but the feeling that welled up in his chest was pain. Hurt. It hurt to hear that voice after so long. Lucifer's long legs bent and settled on the floor. Castiel looked at the man's socks from the corner of his eyes, too wary to meet the man's pale blue eyes. "And with company."

Castiel flicked a glance up at Dean as his guilt continued to build. It was a confusing sort of guilt, because Castiel was caught on the fence between the two men and he felt apologetic toward them both. The worst part of it, other than feeling like a piece of crap over the fact he couldn't lean one way or another to pick a side, was that he felt pathetic enough to feel like he was cheating on Lucifer with Dean.

Sinking with his mood, Castiel sat on the edge of the couch arm and began to cover his face with his hands when he felt arms twine around his waist from behind. Lucifer was up on his knees, leaning into Castiel to set his chin on the smaller man's shoulder. "I thought about making dinner, but didn't know when you'd get home. Do you normally work this late?"

Castiel's mouth opened, but it was Dean that replied, "Do you normally break into apartments?"

Lucifer's arms coiled more possessively around Castiel as his pale gaze shifted to the detective that had yet to move his hand away from his gun. "I guess that depends on whether or not Castiel wants to press charges."

"Well how 'bout I just take you into custody just to stick to protocol."

"It's fine," Castiel grumbled while freeing himself from Lucifer's grasp. "It's not a problem."

He felt sick. He'd spent a good portion of their relationship together providing an alibi for the man. It was second nature to him by this point, but never had Castiel felt like he was being torn in half. That every word out of his mouth, and action of his body, was betraying those closest to him.

"I noticed your t.v. was broken," Lucifer commented with nonchalance, "So I had someone bring by a new one, hope you don't mind."

Castiel curiously narrowed his eyes at Lucifer, wondering at the man's game. It wouldn't have been surprising to have walked into the apartment to find the whole place cleaned and all the broken furniture replaced. Lucifer had the means and the willing bodies to set it right and put Castiel's mind at ease. It was something the man was good at, and it made it all that more difficult to be angry at him.

That he only replaced the television, however, was a curious move. Castiel wanted to think Lucifer had the tact to not immediately try and sweep him off his feet when he had been gone a full year. But considering he was here uninvited and hugging him like they were still together told a different story. There had to be an angle Lucifer was working in all of this, because if there was one thing Castiel knew about his ex-boyfriend, it was that Lucifer never did anything without reason.

"You didn't need to do that," Castiel muttered, refusing to be thankful. "I would have done it myself."

Dean chose that moment to clear his throat.

Lucifer lounged against the couch cushions, "So who's your friend?"

It never occurred to Castiel that introductions could be so difficult. Where did he even begin introducing the two to each other? Hey, meet my ex-boyfriend who may be rumored to lead a radicalist group that did anything and everything to thwart the government from cheating the people.

As for Dean, well, at the moment Castiel dejectedly thought of the detective as his 'pre ex boyfriend'.

"Nick this is Dean, a co-worker. Dean this is Nick my... ex."

"I don't recall breaking up."

"You left," Castiel snapped under his breath.

"I invite you to come with me."

"I shouldn't have to leave everything I worked for just because you ran into trouble."

"I couldn't stay, you know that."

"You left. I stayed. It was a break up."

"Well," Lucifer's voice was always calm, leaning toward indifference with just a hint of patronizing. "Don't you think it should be more mutual?"

"It's called getting dumped, jackass" Dean broke in.

Castiel ducked his head, ashamed, and partially surprised Dean hadn't taken the opportunity to duck out of the apartment during the lover's spat. Lucifer merely smiled at the detective, a playful glint to his eyes. His attention remained on the detective, but his words were all for Castiel. "Did you dump me, Castiel?"

"I... " No, he hadn't. Castiel had always viewed it as Lucifer left him. Charlie had been right in saying that he had been making excuses - keeping himself available in case Lucifer came back. Wow. He officially felt like the world's most pathetic person. Shaking his head in defeat (and absently giving answer to Lucifer's nearly rhetorical question) Castiel plopped down on the couch and buried his face into his hands.

"Man, you really are one helluva piece of work."

Castiel lifted his head, fearing the worst and oddly relieved that Dean was glaring daggers at Lucifer, not him. Then in the next moment he felt annoyed, because he doubted Dean knew the first thing about Lucifer. He had a bad reputation, no doubt, but a man's reputation and character were two very different things.

Lucifer hummed before wrinkling his nose, tone pretentious, "Is this were I stoop to school yard insults and say I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you?"'

_Oh God_, Castiel dragged his hands over his face, _make it stop._

"Oh don't trouble yourself sugaring it up, _Lucifer_, you can just skip right to the death threats."

"Testy one, aren't you. I thought all you suits were suppose to be calm under pressure. Although Michael always tended to lose his temper around me as well.."

"Dean's a detective," Castiel muttered in case anyone cared to listen. "Not a Fed."

"Oh right," A smile could be heard in Lucifer's tone. "_Detective_."

"You can take that smug ass smile and—"

"You know what–" Castiel cut in, abruptly standing from the couch. "I'm going to go lock myself in the bathroom and try to hang myself with my shower curtain. So if you two could try and not break anything while you finish this pissing contest, I'd appreciate it."

As a last minute decision Castiel scooped up the white blob of kitten off the couch before making for the bathroom.

"Look at what you did," He heard Dean snap at Lucifer.

"He doesn't like conflict," Came the simple reply.

True to his word, Castiel locked the door even knowing it wouldn't keep either man out. The voices were muffled through the thin door, growling and low enough to suggest they had purposely dropped their voices so that Castiel wouldn't hear them. Whatever, as long as they didn't kill each other, Castiel would find a way to be content with that fact. He just couldn't take being in the same room with them any longer. He needed a little time to himself to think, to sort it all out because it was all complicated, right?

Castiel frowned at the kitten in his hands, as if the white devil would have the answer he needed.

Climbing into the tub, Castiel laid out as comfortable as possible with the idea he might be there for a while. Little Lucifer stretched out across his sternum and instantly set about purring. The vibrating noise was comforting, and as Castiel stroked the kitten's soft fur, he felt a little calmer.

"He could have called," Castiel confided to the kitten. "He just left and never called."

Logically Castiel could reason that it was highly possible that the FBI kept his lines tapped in case Lucifer contacted him. No, Castiel slumped further in the tub while rubbing a hand along his brow, he shouldn't be justifying it. Except, maybe he should have gone with Lucifer. He loved the man - shouldn't he have been willing to drop everything to go with him?

It hadn't been a life Castiel wanted to live. The _things_ that Lucifer got involved with in his passionate desire for justice in the world. Castiel use to have this romantic view of Lucifer as a vigilante, willing to take the risks and make the sacrifices to avenge those that had been wronged. He still was that man, but Castiel didn't like some of the choices Lucifer had made over the years.

"I asked him to stop," The kitten purred louder in response to Castiel's voice. "I just wanted to be with him without all that burden that came with the crap that comes with his _stuff._ I lost count how many times we had to move, but you know, we never had to leave the country."

Therapy in a tub, Castiel silently mocked himself, and he was spilling out his heart to a cat.

A gentle tapping came from the locked door, and Castiel could easily imagine Lucifer on the other side, leaning against the frame with one arm and softly rapping the back of his knuckles against the door. The mental image pulled at Castiel's heart strings. He couldn't lie - he missed Lucifer and at that moment he wanted to wrap his arms around his ex and bury his face into the man's chest.

"Castiel."

Yet he was afraid, because although he could hear Lucifer's soft tone on the other side of the door, he couldn't bring himself to go to the man. Dean was out there and.. well, Castiel liked Dean. He didn't know what was there between himself and the detective, but there was a desire to pursue it. He didn't want to lose his chance with Dean because of the complicated situation he had with Lucifer.

"Will you come out?"

Castiel softly snorted, "Did you two kiss and make up?"

There was silence on the other side of the door, and out of curiosity Castiel sat up far enough to peer blue eyes over the rim of the tub. The gap along the bottom of the door revealed two separate movements. The reason behind the play of shadows became more obvious when Castiel heard Dean's growling tone.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not kissing you."

Lucifer's voice murmured something too low for Castiel to decipher. Dean responded with a growl of cursing. He then knocked on the door, his own a firm knocking that lightly rattled the door. "Com'on Cas, don't be like this."

"Castiel," Lucifer had always liked the full version of Castiel's name. "We could sit and watch a movie if you like."

His interest perked, "All of us?"

Dean's voice weighed heavily with reluctance, "I'm not leaving you here alone with this bastard."

"How sweet," cooed Lucifer.

"Shut up."

Tucking the kitten to his chest, Castiel crawled out of the tub and crept over to the door. He twisted the lock open and cracked open the door to glance between the men leaning against opposite sides of the doorway. Both pairs of eyes, one pale blue and the other sea green, honed intently on Castiel, making his mouth go dry. He licked his lips, drawing in a breath to rebuild his composure. "Kiss."

Lucifer smiled, amused, but Dean's brow wrinkled in bewilderment. "What?"

"Show me you're going to stop fighting."

"By kissing him?"

Castiel did his best not to smirk. The silence whittled at Dean's composure, and slowly the detective shifted his weight and cast a wary glance at Lucifer. There was something predatory about the way Lucifer calmly met Dean's uncertain gaze. "What do you say, Dean, are you willing to put away the gun and place nice?"

Dean rubbed fingers across his lips, and for a moment Castiel thought the detective was actually considering kissing Lucifer. Castiel wasn't all that sure how he felt about that. Curious, mostly, which was a great deal better than feeling his heart sinking into a pit of despair while he was in the tub.

"Fine, we'll watch a movie," Dean grunted before pointing a finger at Lucifer's face, "but no kissing."

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **Castiel's apartment is like an opened gateway into hell. Chaos happens there, and Castiel is certain the forces are working against him to prevent him from getting laid.**  
2.) **Lucifer has the advantage of knowing Castiel for ten years. It's like having the home team advantage. Dean needs to step up his game.**  
3.) **Lucifer is sort of like Tyler Durden in Fight Club._ _Without the crazy._  
_**4.) **What do you think about Polyamory?_


	10. Just Tonight

**Part X  
Just Tonight**

It wasn't fair.

The truth behind those words was backed by the constant roiling of guilt in the pit of Castiel's stomach. He ignored it the way a child would disregard a parent's chiding to only take one cookie from the cooling rack. From that perspective, it hardly seemed fair to be only allowed one. It was a rule that someone else created, and as Lucifer was ever so fond of teaching Castiel, rules were the guild lines of how someone else wanted him to be. Just because he thought differently, wanted two instead of one, didn't make him any less of a person. It didn't make him _wrong_, but society had their ideas of normalcy, and say.. desiring an open relationship did not fit in their parameters of what was acceptable.

But Castiel liked what he saw.

Lucifer and Dean stood in the kitchen, a foot of space between their matching pair of broad shoulders. They each faced the counter top, Lucifer making himself tea while Dean opted for coffee. Lucifer's head turned, his lips moving with a murmur too distant for Castiel to hear. Dean responded by shifting his own face toward the slightly taller man, stoic in expression except for the faint crinkle around the corner of his sea-green eyes that hinted toward amusement. Castiel found himself smiling into the back of the couch from where he sat watching from the living room. His heart gave a small lurch; an ache that was both pain and adoration.

Why was it wrong for him to want both men in his life?

Expecting him to choose between them felt as if he was being asked to tear his heart in two with his own bare hands.

The men turned, Lucifer in the lead, and Castiel sat forward and set his gaze on the glowing tv screen. It wasn't long before the couch dipped on either side of him. Dean on one side and Lucifer on the other. Castiel had purposely situated himself in the middle in preparation of playing peace keeper. There was a motion of cups, a short exchange of words, but all Castiel could seem to focus on was the coffee table ahead of him and how he could see both Lucifer's and Dean's knees hovering close to his own but never once making contact. Castiel kept his hands tightly clasped together as he sat rigidly; caught between the past and future.

A step backwards, or a step forward?

Why couldn't he just stay idle in the present?

"You did not just pick The Notebook. _Dude_, seriously?"

Castiel tuned back into reality and blinked at the television screen to a movie he had no hopes of recognizing. Whatever Lucifer had chosen from the limited movie channels, it looked normal enough to Castiel. Innocently he spoke up, "What's wrong with the movie?"

"Nothing is wrong with it," Lucifer assured in soft tone.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean interjected. "It's totally about a chick that has to pick between two men, and who she does pick is her first love. All this bullshit about the power of love. Dude, you're being an ass, we're not watching this."

Hearing this, Castiel's head tilted and he shifted a questioning gaze onto his ex-boyfriend.

Lucifer merely shrugged nonchalantly as he met Castiel's eyes, "I thought you might like it."

A small pillow impacted with Lucifer's chest, courtesy of Dean's snap throw. On reflex Castiel nudged his knee against Dean in attempt to remind him to behave. Only afterwards, as Dean's leg pressed back against his own, did Castiel become fully aware of his actions and tried to lean his leg away from the detective. All to no avail, as Dean seemed to bodily lean in toward him and Castiel drew in and held his breath.

The scent of Dean's cologne filled his senses and Castiel's eyes drifted to a close.

"Give me the remote. I'll pick."

Dean's body jostled against Castiel's as he grasped for the remote - of which Lucifer kept conveniently out of reach. Castiel found himself leaning against Lucifer for support against Dean's pushing. The remote was held up high, and when Dean finally managed to snatch it away, the detective returned to his side of the couch while Lucifer casually lowered his arm to settle across Castiel's shoulders. Practiced fingertips grazed down the side of Castiel's neck, raising goose bumps in their wake, before resting on Castiel's shoulder.

With Dean's leg touching him from hip to knee on the one side, and the weight of Lucifer's arm over his shoulders, Castiel felt safe. After the last few days of operating on only a handful of hours of sleep, even as the two men beside him bickered with small comments, Castiel felt his mind begin to descend toward unconsciousness before an agreement could be made about what movie to watch.

* * *

_"I had a feeling I would find you here."_

_Castiel's blue eyes roved once more over the creek babbling a few feet away from where he sat on a fallen trunk. Then he bowed his head, closed his eyes and brought his hands up to run through his dark hair. Behind him the stones of the bank crunched as Lucifer walked toward him. The sound stop somewhere just behind Castiel, but it wasn't close enough that Castiel could feel him standing there. There was distance enough between them to acknowledge that a wedge had been driven between them._

_"You've always had a thing for the quiet serenity that only nature can provide," Lucifer's voice almost sounded apologetic, but it was a fleeting moment, because after a pause came the bite. "Which makes me confused about why you want to go to the city."_

_Castiel steepled his fingers in front of his face, setting his chin on his extended thumbs. It wasn't the first tiff they exchanged, but this was the first time Castiel had stomped out of their shared apartment with no say about where he was going or whether or not he was going to come back. He should have known that Lucifer would find him sooner rather than later. Castiel drew in a slow breath, steeling himself for a repeat of their earlier fight. "Because that is where the college is, Nick."_

_"But it's so far away."_

_"I already paid the tuition."_

_"And didn't tell me."_

_"I thought you'd be happy for me," Castiel growled as his eyes slit into a glare he kept directed on the pebbles beneath his sneakers. "You've known I wanted to do this since before graduation."_

_"Why can't you just come with me?"_

_"Why can't you come with __me__?"_

_Castiel didn't want to look, but he glanced over his shoulder before he could curb the urge to peek at Lucifer's face. He was frowning, and even though Lucifer was attempting to keep his expression steeled, Castiel could still read the hurt in those pale blue eyes._

_"I won't stop you," Lucifer broke the silence as his hands slid into his pockets. On the outside he looked casual as ever, but Castiel knew the little signs, and while Lucifer could fool everyone with a calm expression, it was always the hands that gave away his true feelings. Hiding them revealed his nervousness; an uncertainty, a fear. "I'm just trying to understand."_

_"It's time I move forward, Nick."_

_"Without me?"_

_Castiel blinked as the realization finally struck him as to why Lucifer was so upset about him wanting to move across the country to go to school. He chuckled, much to Lucifer's chagrin as the blonde shot him a pissed look, but Castiel did little but give his boyfriend a crooked smile in response. "I'm not breaking up with you."_

_The agitation smoothed from Lucifer's features, "You're not?"_

_"No," Castiel's head tilted, a little confused to why Lucifer even thought that from the start. While it was true Castiel wasn't the best when it came to expressing his feelings, when he did say something, it was direct and didn't skirt around the topic. "I just want to go to college - to work toward something instead of feeling like I'm drifting toward nothing."_

_"So I can visit?"_

_"You can always apply too."_

_Lucifer nose wrinkled in distaste and for that, Castiel smiled._

* * *

Castiel jerked out of his light doze when he felt a hand wander along the inside of his thigh. It took a moment for Castiel's eyes to focus in the darkened living room. The television gave enough light for Castiel to recognize Dean's face, but not enough to bring light to the source of the intensity to the look the detective had keenly fixed on him. Dean's hand trailed a little higher. Castiel swallowed, unable to look anywhere but Dean's determined stare.

It was with a startling realization that he noticed that Lucifer was gone.

Castiel planted a hand on the empty section of couch to his left. It was with a small amount of a franticness that his eyes immediately scanned the room for sign of his ex with a strange need to have him there to prevent Dean's hands from wandering any further.

"He went to bed twenty minutes ago," Dean answered the question Castiel didn't voice.

As the detective pressed closer, and Castiel instinctively shrank downward until he rested on elbows. The dark haired man looked up at the one looming over him with no small amount of confusion. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"That you still have a thing for your ex?"

At least Dean wasn't oblivious to it, which in turn made Castiel feel guilty about not hiding it better. "Something along those lines, yes."

"Maybe I think you just haven't been given a good enough reason to forget about him."

"It's not that," Castiel continue to stare up at the man hovering over him. "I could never forget about him, because I know that no matter what, a part of me will always love him."

Dean's jaw tightened at the blunt admission, "Then why the hell am I even bothering with you."

It stung, but Castiel swallowed the welling hurt down. "Have you never loved someone?"

"Of course I have," Dean snapped on reflex, then after a second he retreated an inch with uncertainty. "Sort of. Maybe. Why does it matter?"

"Because you would know it's next to impossible to forget about someone you love."

The detective growled and hastily withdrew. Castiel caught him with a hand curling around his forearm, because even though he knew it was far from kosher to tell Dean that he still had feelings for his ex, Castiel didn't want to lie. He'd never been good at it. At least he had the foresight to know it was better to tell Dean the truth now before things really started between them. Dean needed to understand that if he wanted anything with Castiel, he would have to accept Lucifer too.

"I don't understand," Dean mumbled. "What are you getting at, Cas?"

"Nick will always be a part of me. Don't ask me to forget about him, because I don't _want_ to forget. That doesn't mean I'm not ready for a change, to start something with someone else." Castiel's heart began to race and his words nervously wavered. "I want to know what you and I could have together.."

Dean had his cop face on, the stony exterior that masked his inner thoughts. Although the small crease between his brows gave away his confusion.

Castiel mentally scrambled to try and piece together what Dean might be thinking, "I mean, more than a fling. I guess I didn't stop to think that you might just want to have like a one night stand. I don't really - I mean I've never even done that so I guess it never crossed my mind. So if that's the case, I guess emotional availability never matter to you–"

Before Castiel could ramble himself off a metaphorical cliff, Dean had reached forward to clamp a hand over his mouth.

"Winchester."

Huh?

Castiel blinked wildly up at the detective, only to feel his chest deflate upon seeing Dean had shushed him so that he could answer his phone. Castiel flopped backwards and folded his arms over his face while Dean extracted himself from the couch to retreat to the kitchen to continue the call in privacy. Castiel was left to feel the part of a fool. It had never really crossed his mind that Dean wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship. It should have. Castiel wasn't really sure why that bothered him so much.

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes - stupid, stupid, stupid –

"Hey, uh, Cas."

"Mm?" Castial sat up as if nothing was wrong. "Yeah?"

"I gotta run."

Of course, Castiel lightly nodded to the detective while not quite meeting the other man's eyes. Dean was fleeing after Castiel had voiced wanting something more than just a quickie. Castiel didn't want to believe it, hoped against the obvious conclusion, but as he finally turned his face to fully regard the detective, the distance between them made the it all that much more clear. Dean was shifting his weight, and only taking Castiel in with a few side glances.

Avoidance.

"Sure," Castiel feigned nonchalance. "I'll see you at work?"

Dean lingered, his fingers picking at the back of the couch, but he said nothing before turning and seeing himself out. Castiel followed a moment later, feeling sick as he turned the locks on his door. He tried to tell himself it was for the best. It's not like he wanted to become invested in someone that wasn't interested in having anything more than a casual fuck. Maybe he was asking too much too soon, but Castiel didn't know what else he was suppose to do.

The t.v. was switched off and Castiel eyed the empty couch before wandering down the hall to peek into his bedroom. Sure enough Lucifer was stretched on the bed, his clothing strew across the floor as if he had been comfortably living there for years. It was painfully familiar, as was span of skin along Lucifer's back. The sheet had slipped down to pool around his ex-boyfriend's waist, giving Castiel a clear view of the wings tattooed down his back with the bottom tips of feathers reaching his buttocks.

It had taken hours to complete, and Castiel had sat with Lucifer during the whole process, and he distinctly remembered getting turned on as the tattoo was etched over Lucifer's backside.

Castiel closed his eyes, willing the memory away.

As quietly as possible Castiel crept toward the bed and reached for one of the unused pillows. The corner slid out from under Lucifer's head, which was unfortunately enough to stir the man toward consciousness. He turned toward Castiel, catching the end of the pillow. Castiel vainly held onto the opposite corner, tugging lightly in a silent plea for Lucifer to let go.

"Mmhat're you doing?" Came Lucifer's sleep-slurred question.

Castiel's jaw tightened, "I'm going to sleep on the couch."

Lucifer's brow creased as if to question why Castiel would do that, but he didn't bother with voicing it because in the end his reaction would be the same. He pulled the pillow back down, drawing Castiel closer to the edge of the bed in the process. "There's no need for you to do that."

Castiel could have let the pillow go, but he clung to the thin fabric all the same and allowed himself to be pulled closer. A part of him, and small part, didn't want to go where Lucifer's actions were obviously leading. However, the larger part of himself, wanted the comfort that he knew would come with being close to the man; just to once again have the feeling of arms wrapped around him and a warm body laying close to his own.

"Come to bed already."

Still clutching the end of the pillow, Castiel remained with just a knee pressed into the mattress in a half-hearted attempt to resist. Lucifer pulled the sheet and blanket back and Castiel damned himself for the way his eyes trailed down his boyfriend's body. Ex-boyfriend, Castiel kept trying to remind himself. Ex-boyfriend, and he was not allowed to jump into bed with his ex-boyfriend just because he was feeling lonely.

Even if the sight of Lucifer in only a pair of dark blue boxer-briefs made Castiel's pulse quicken.

"I shouldn't."

Lucifer let out a short laugh as he release the pillow and instead extended his reach to seize the tie dangling from Castiel's neck. Castiel pulled back just enough to be stubborn, but in the end he was drawn down onto the bed despite his weak protest. He stared into Lucifer's pale irises, silently pleading with him to stop. Lucifer paid the look little mind and slid loose the silken knot from Castiel's throat.

"Who says you shouldn't?"

A frown was added to Castiel's imploring features, "I know better, and you.. you can't just walk back into my life like nothing's changed."

Lucifer's gaze flicked up to Castiel's face, but the words didn't stop him from working on the buttons of Castiel's shirt. After three buttons came free, Castiel slid his hands over Lucifer's to stop him. "It still hurts - that you left."

"Then let me make it up to you," Lucifer's hand began to move, but Castiel tightened his grip to prevent it.

"No," And it twisted Castiel's heart to say it. "No. We've been doing this for.. a decade, Nick. It's always the same, and I always forgive you, but you just do it again and.. I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to keep going through this pain."

"I've always valued your honesty," Lucifer murmured, his voice too low to distinguish the guarded emotion behind the tone.

"And I yours," Castiel whispered, closing his eyes because he could sense the forth coming judgment from Lucifer. With honestly came a harsh truth, and Lucifer had a way of speaking the words that Castiel only quietly wondered in the back of his mind. He brought those doubts forward and forced them to be acknowledged.

"But do you really think Dean is the way you want to go about this?"

Dean was a far-cry from being Lucifer, but maybe that was what made it appealing, because Dean _wasn't_ Lucifer. Castiel wasn't looking to replacing his ex-boyfriend with a carbon copy. In order to change, he had to make different choices instead of picking the same things and expecting a different outcome. "I don't know... but it's my mistake to make."

"He's going to hurt you."

The casual certainty in which Lucifer stated the words, as if it was an undeniable fact, irked Castiel. "No more than you have."

Lucifer's hand shot to his throat, the pressure light to avoid chocking Castiel, but it was enough to tilt his head back into the pillow. Castiel didn't flinch. He knew Lucifer had a quick-fire trigger to his temper if the right buttons were pushed, but he also knew that Lucifer would never intentionally hurt him. He trusted the man, completely, and sometimes that was all he needed to be turned on.

Slender fingers curled around Lucifer's hipbones, pulling at the man's solid frame while Castiel turned toward him. The pull became a push as Castiel rolled on top of his ex-boyfriend, legs parting to straddle his waist. Their lips crushed together with a year's worth of hunger. Lucifer's fingers were making quick work of the rest of Castiel's shirt buttons. When he had it open, and half way down Castiel's arms, Lucifer flipped their position. Castiel found his arms trapped at his sides because of the shirt, but he didn't care as lips seared down the front of his chest. And while Lucifer's hands switched to work on his belt, Castiel pressed his head back into the sheets and closed his eyes. He wondered, faintly, if Lucifer had known all along that he would end up here in bed with him tonight.

_Just tonight_, he told himself, _just tonight._

* * *

_I was scared but once I thought about, I let it go  
Everything she said to me I guess I ought to know  
We're all tired talk when it comes to shove  
Put up, put out or stay at home._

_We'll never be the same, never feel this way again  
I'd give you anything but you want pain.  
A little water please, I taste you all over my teeth  
Never again. Just tonight? Ok_

* * *

_**Things to Know:  
1.) **__There was suppose to be a lot more awkwardness during the movie, but Castiel has been running off of very little sleep and he once again ended up nodding off instead. What a spoil sport.__**  
2.) **__Dean really did have to leave.__**  
3.) **__Castiel feels really confused about what he wants. It's becoming clear he's use to having other people decide what he wants.  
__**4.)**__ Is there such a thing as break-up sex?  
__**5.) **__The lyrics are from the song Just Tonight by Jimmy Eat World  
__**6.) **__Totally broke 100 reviews, woot-woot!_

_**A/N:**__ Thanks for the response about the question I had last chapter! Very insightful, and very interesting to see the split in opinion. I do have Destiel as my endgame plan, so don't hate me too quickly for the end of this chapter. I can't find it in myself to make Castiel blindly hate Lucifer. Emotions are not so cut and dry as all that. It's a matter of hating and loving something at the same time. I will apologize about my lack of update. Phew, now that Gishwhes is over (anyone else participate?) and played through Halo 4 (what a let down!) I'm climbing back on the writing track._

_Next Chapter: I'm totally about to turn your world upside down when I finally drop the plot bomb. Anyone have predictions?_


	11. Topsy-Turvy

**Part XI  
Topsy-Turvy**

"Tell me you didn't know about this."

Victor Henriksen had a half-second to look up before Michael slapped the case files onto his desk. Michael glared down at the calm exterior of his partner. He waited, impatiently, as Henriksen sipped from his lukewarm coffee before bothering to glance down at the folders. The file wasn't even touched before it was dismissively nudged toward the edge of the desk. "I might have heard something about it."

"What the hell, Vic?" Michael backed off a step in disbelief, gathered his wits and advanced on his partner with a heated whisper. "The bureau decides to assign another agent to our case, completely under minding our current operation, and you don't think that is something we should know about?"

"We are on a need to know basis, and clearly, we didn't need to know."

"But you did."

Henriksen shrugged.

Michael shook his head, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," Henriksen's voice began sternly, but he paused to glance around the office before continuing in a lowered tone. "I knew you would fly off the handle like this."

"You know how hard I've worked to keep my brother out of the spotlight."

Henriksen cleared his throat as he calmly rose from the desk. His dark hand curled around Michael's elbow and he firmly lead his partner out of the office, down the hallway and through the side door to where a lot of people took their smoke break. The cold fingers of a waning autumn present in the wind had chased most of them to more sheltered outings. Henriksen glanced about to make sure they were alone before he turned to Michael. "Zachariah is getting fed up with our lack of results."

Michael fumed, "I have delivered Lucifer to him in a fucking hand basket several times. It's not our fault evidence magically disappears, or key witnesses suddenly forget what they saw, or someone comes out of the god damn woodworks and confesses to the crime we all know Lucifer committed. How can that be classified as lack of results?"

"Hey man," Henriksen set a hand on Michael's shoulder to try and calm him down. "You and I both knew that one day they were going to start looking into Castiel."

"My brother is innocent," His hands were shaking and despite how hard Michael tried to clench them into fists, the trembling wouldn't stop. "If the bureau goes after him and he doesn't give Lucifer up - and I know he won't because my brother is so fucking loyal it's a fault instead of a merit - they're going to find a reason to put him behind bars for as long as it takes to get him to cooperate."

Once again Henriksen shrugged.

"I need to call Castiel," Michael pulled out his phone, only to have his partner snatch it out of his hand.

"Don't you think this is why they didn't let you know about their little Plan B?"

"Give me my —" And then Michael saw nothing but red. His jacket flared as he pushed past Henriksen. The wind caught his tie, flipping it over his shoulder. He was across the parking lot in record time and yelling at the top of his lungs. "WINCHESTER."

The next moment his fist was colliding with Dean's nose with a satisfying crunch.

Blood splattered the asphalt, and Michael struggled against Henriksen's arms as his partner restrained him. Dean nursed his bleeding nose before spitting a glob of blood to the side, "What the fuck man?"

"You sick son of a bitch," Michael tried to kick at Dean's ribs, but Henriksen kept him at bay. "Was it part of your assignment to fuck around with my brother?"

Dean flashed a smug smile of red stained teeth, "Not my fault Zachariah thinks you're too soft to handle this case."

"So they sent _you_ to get close to my brother in hopes of bagging Lucifer!?"

"All green lights to get nice and tight with him," Dean taunted before spitting aside more blood.

Henriksen nearly lost all hold on Michael, "You asshole! You don't give a fuck that you're messing around with his head and when this blows over you're going to leave him a broken mess. You _fucker._ I knew you were up to no good when I saw you with him."

Dean wiped the blood from his lips, seemingly unconcerned about the ire aimed at him. "Yeah, well, your brother had it coming by staying involved with such a low-life."

"My brother–"

"–is a fucking loser," Dean snapped. "Pathetic and desperate."

Michael eased back into his usual stoic mask, "The only problem Castiel has is that he cares too much. He's willing to give the benefit of the doubt to worthless pieces of shit like _you._"

That seemed to have struck a nerve, because Dean did little but glare at him in response. Satisfied he may have gotten an ounce of humanity through the douche bag's thick skull, Michael extracted himself from Henriksen's arms and calmly straightened his suit jacket. He inspected his knuckles with a glance, rubbing away a spot of blood. Afterward he held his hand expectantly out toward his partner until Henriksen yielded his phone.

"Don't call him," Henriksen warned with an accompanying look. "Jeopardizing this case will likely cost your job, and that's if they're being gentle about it."

Michael shot his partner a look to express that he did not appreciate being reprimanded like a child. He very well knew the risks at hand when dealing with Lucifer's case. Over the years Michael had lost count of how many times he had to bite his tongue or repress the urge to either call Castiel or storm into his brother's apartment and drag him to another state. There had also been times where he had been tempted to flat out shoot Lucifer because of heartache he had caused his little brother.

Right now, however, Michael really wanted to put a bullet in Dean Winchester's face.

"The break in," Michael stated with a narrow of eyes. "Your partner fits the description of the intruder. You had him break into Castiel's apartment to look for evidence. Do you follow any form of code of conduct?"

Dean returned the glare, "I get results."

"At what cost?"

Dean remained silent.

"The truth is, Winchester, you have no idea how to work this case." Michael calmly buttoned the front of his jacket while turning his attention to Henriksen. "I'm taking an early lunch."

That was code for he was going to drive around until he didn't feel like breaking every bone in Dean's body.

No one stopped him, and when his phone did ring, the dashboard clock read 11:00 AM. Michael was stopped at a red light and used the moment to glance down at the number calling him. It was a foreign number as far as his phone was concerned. It wasn't listed as a contact, but Michael knew the ten digits flashing across the touch screen by heart. Usually Michael ignored the calls and if a voice mail was left he deleted it before he could listen to it.

Today he was pissed enough to grab his phone, push the accept button and press it to his ear, "How did you get this number."

_"You know for a man that is avidly pursuing me, you do your best to stay out of contact."_

Michael should have known he wouldn't get an answer. It's not like he couldn't imagine how someone had dredged up his personal cell number. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as he checked that the light was still red. "You know how it is," Michael spoke stiffly, knowing that if he played along a little bit he was more likely to get the answers he wanted. "The bureau doesn't like when I take personal calls from terrorists."

_"Even if this said terrorist just wants to know how you're doing?"_

"Especially then," Michael grumbled in response to the amused drawl coming from his phone. "What do you want, Lucifer?"

_"I've asked you before, call me Nick."_

"Lucifer is more fitting."

Chuckling floated through the phone, _"Alright, have it your way, no small talk. I want you to have lunch with me."_

The light turned green and Michael concentrated on the cars around him instead of dwelling on the paranoia threatening to kick into over drive. It wasn't the first time Lucifer had asked to meet. Michael always declined on the principle that he didn't consort with criminals. Not even special cases like Lucifer. Sometimes it was difficult just because Lucifer was also Castiel's boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend, Michael kind of lost track during their on and off again relationship) and Michael tried to be somewhat cordial to his brother's boyfriend because it became clear as the years stretched on that Lucifer meant a lot to Castiel.

Which made tossing Lucifer into prison for life a hard decision.

The bureau was right about thinking Michael was too personally involved with the case.

Michael's fingers tightened on the wheel, "Why?"

_"Is it such a strange notion to think I just want to catch up on old times with you?"_

"It is when you're involved."

_"After all these years, you still don't trust me."_

"Don't act like your feelings are hurt," Michael spat as checked his blind spot and moved in the left lane. "Stop fucking around. What do you want?"

_"To talk - and don't ask me 'about what', because you already know."_

_Bastard_, Michael gritted his teeth. Intelligence and perception could make for a deadly combination, and Lucifer was like a damn viper with it. He just had a way of knowing things, or at least making it sound like he knew something that it threw people, including Michael, off their game. "Are you going to leave your lackeys at home?"

_"I'll leave mine if you leave yours."_

The idea that it was a trap did cross his mind, but it was strange. Michael knew that Lucifer wouldn't do anything to him, personally, because of the obvious fact that it would upset Castiel. There also was the fact, that Michael only silently acknowledged to himself, was that Lucifer was fond of _him_ and their bizarre game of cat and mouse. That had became obvious when Lucifer had more or less allowed himself to be caught just to have the chance to sit in a room with Michael and talk face to face.

They've had some very strange conversations over the years, and Michael wasn't sure who was the cat and who was the mouse.

_"You still like seafood, right?"_

Michael wanted to be bothered by the fact that Lucifer even knew that. Grudgingly he replied, "Yeah."

_"There's a nice shack, Davey's Famous Crab, off the Boulevard near the waterfront. You know it?"_

A sigh - it was only a place that Michael had taken countless lunch hours when he was in the city. "You know I do."

_"Meet me there in an hour - and wear something casual for once."_

Michael didn't have time to protest before the line went dead. With a growl he tossed the phone into the passenger seat. He shouldn't go. Yet there he was, switching back into the right lane to head toward the waterfront while wondering if he owned anything other than formal attire.

* * *

_**Things to Know**__  
__**1.)**__ Dean is actually FBI. I hinted toward this when there was a bit too much familiarity between him and Michael in Castiel's apartment. Also when Lucifer mocked the word 'detective' in regards to Dean.__**  
2.) **__Told'ja not to be too harsh when judging Michael. He's only trying to look out for his little brother**.**__**  
3.) **__Isn't it just evil when a story reveals a very crucial plot point, but the main character - Castiel in this case - has no clue? Worse that it seems everyone knows, but they chose not to tell Cas.  
__**4.) **__Dean is not in a good position to be winning anyone's heart.  
__**5.) **Yikes, I must have did something very wrong last chapter. Lost followers, and so few reviews. Ah well, it's my story, and to those that you that read it, here's a quick and short chapter for the transition. Let the snowball roll!  
_

_Next Chapter - We get to see things from Dean's point of view, and he better have a damn good explanation._


	12. Minutes to Midnight

**Part XII  
Minutes to Midnight**

He didn't know why he said those things.

In the heat of his moment, as his fingers did a poor job of staunching the flow of blood from his nose and his face screamed in pain, Dean had wanted to throw a few punches of his own to even the score. Henriksen had intervene so Dean had resolved to do the next best thing - verbal blows. Michael had shown his weak spot (namely in the form of Castiel) and Dean had taken his shots. At the time it had pleased him how volatile Michael reacted.

Now however...

In the reflection of the closed elevator doors, Dean could see the purple rings forming around his eyes and the dark red of broken vessels along the bridge of his nose. He had straightened it himself in the bathroom and cleaned up the best he could, but there was no hiding the damage of Michael's sucker punch. Dean should have made a report out of it, get the bastard suspended at least, but in the end, as his nose throbbed in unison with his heart, Dean felt he deserved every bit of pain he was feeling.

At the beginning of the case Dean had been informed that he needed to get close to a suspect in order to bring down the infamous Lucifer. That was fine and dandy. It wasn't his first under cover assignment. He was good at earning people's trust. It was amazing how far good looks could get a guy, and yeah, he had taken extra privileges during his assignments if it suited him. His advances were never unwelcome and he damn well noticed the way Castiel had looked at him from day one.

It should have been nothing but net from the free throw line.

In a typical case, at least one that was considered typical in Dean Winchester's book, the people he was assigned to get close to in order to weasel out information or evidence, they were the love 'em and leave 'em type. Other times they were floozies, junkies, or an otherwise equal match the low-life they were banging. Either way, Dean did his thing, won the person over, got what he needed, and then he was off on his next case without a second thought.

But Castiel...

Dean was surprised by Castiel. He couldn't figure out how this awkward lab-rat ended up involved with Lucifer. There had been theories that Castiel was the one that had made evidence disappear, or to slip notes to witnesses with threats for them to keep their silence. The bureau wanted something, anything, to pin on Castiel. The plan was to use that game piece to put pressure on Castiel until he spilled on Lucifer.

Virgil's quick flip of Castiel's apartment had turned up fruitless, and even Dean's casual visits had left him empty handed. After the whole fiasco, Dean kind of felt bad about it when he noticed how poorly Castiel was cooping. The guy hadn't only lost sleep over it, but he'd been steadily losing weight as well. So Dean had tried to make amends by bringing the guy food, hanging out with him to make him feel safe, and also trying to make him get some sleep.

Meanwhile he was hard pressed to ignore Castiel's interest in him.

So yeah, maybe Castiel was a _little_ desperate, but it was a desire for a change in his life and not particularly for sex (although Dean was quite willing to provide the latter). If the guy was desperate, then it was for considering starting anew with Dean. It had to be the worst available option. Dean was terrible at relationships. He had gotten married when he was young only because he had knocked up a girl and his father had drilled it into his head that he better be there for that kid. Dean had made an honest effort to do just that, but it had been hell - absolute hell. Eventually Dean had cracked and had retaliated by sleeping with just about anything with a pulse. Of course, even though he was being a cheating bastard, Lisa had decided to be a bitch and refuse to sign divorce papers because of the kid. So even though Dean didn't wear a ring, and he lived not only in a different house, but a different state, legally he was still a married man.

Like he said, he was a bad choice for Castiel.

Yet, despite all that, Dean had _sorta_ grown fond of the guy. Alright, more than just a little, because he had been battling the green-eyed monster of jealousy ever since Lucifer had stepped back into the picture. Dean rarely felt possessive over people, but damn he had been ready to ravage Castiel on that battered couch while Lucifer slept in the room down the hall just to feel like he had a claim on Castiel. It was more than a bit psychotic on his part.

But Castiel was no criminal.

He was the equivalent of the guy in the wrong place at the right time, and the more Dean learned by being around him, the more he began to feel guilty about the unavoidable fact that he was going to eventually have to turn him over to his superiors. Damnit. Castiel was just this average guy with killer blue eyes and this hair that constantly made him look like he had just rolled out of bed. He was shy, incredibly awkward in both actions and words, and he really was that quiet nerd that sat in the far corner of the library with his nose stuck in a book.

More adorable than a god damn kitten too.

Speaking of which, Dean's cheeks had never hurt so much from smiling, but it happened whenever he remembered the frustrated scowls on Castiel's face in response to becoming caretaker to a young kitten.

Dean didn't blame Lucifer for wanting to keep Castiel. It was strangely easy to imagine Castiel being something of a ray of light, a breath of fresh air, a speck of honesty – something to cherish after a day of slogging through the filth and corruption of the world. Dean glanced down at the mostly empty file in his hand, feeling like world's biggest scum bag.

Least to say, Castiel hadn't been the only one losing sleep over the last few days.

The elevator doors slid open, allowing a desk clerk (a slender brunette with a shy smile Dean had tossed a smile or two in the past) inside and Dean was forced to finally press the third floor button as she pressed the two next to it. She glanced at him, no doubt hoping to earn a smile from him as their hands almost touched, but Dean didn't have it in him to play the role of Charming today. Slowly she retreated to the back of the elevator while Dean stared at the line dividing the closed doors as his thoughts continued their downward spiral.

The second floor came and went, and Dean had a spare few seconds alone to steel himself before he stepped out onto the third floor. His expression gave away nothing as he walked the hall and stopped next to Zachariah's office. His tapped his knuckles against the glass wall to capture the man's attention before earning the wave-in of permission to enter.

"Dean!" The false enthusiasm always bothered him. "Dean. What happened to your face? Never mind that. What do you have for me - please tell me it's something good."

That was a matter of interpretation. Dean glanced once again at the file in his hand before wordlessly extending it toward his boss. Zachariah eagerly plucked it from his grasp. He made a face, part amusement part question, at Dean upon seeing the lack of paperwork inside.

Dean gestured uselessly with his hand, "The guy's pretty clean."

"Clean? Like, squeaky clean or suspiciously clean?"

Zachariah gave him a piercing look before settling behind his desk, retrieving a pair of cheater specs to set on his nose before pursuing Dean's latest report. Dean shrugged and slid both hands into his back pockets. "Not sure, but given years of experience, he really doesn't strike me as a criminal."

"Ehh," His boss drawled his disagreement as he flipped to the back page. "I find it highly unlikely that a concubine of Lucifer's isn't either dirty or has a skeleton in the closet."

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing to refute Zachariah's words.

"I'm disappointed, Dean." The file closed, the glasses were removed. "You promised me results by the end of the week."

As much as Dean wished that didn't prick at his sense of pride, it did. He shrugged it aside, "To be fair, the week's not over."

"Mm," Zachariah laced his fingers together and briefly regarded Dean over his dry knuckles. "That's true. So bring him in."

Dean faltered, his expression shuttered, "Sir? On what charges?"

"Harboring a fugitive."

There had to be four elements of proof to make that arrest, and Dean was sure they only had one, and by circumstantial reasoning Castiel was guilty of a second one. The other two, well, no doubt a bit of hem and haw could be thrown around to make it stick. Given that it was a working case against Lucifer, Dean was certain a judge would rule in their favor. Usually those were factors Dean counted in his favor. This time he wished justice was more blind.

"Well?"

Dean blinked out of his daze, "Sir?"

"What are you waiting for?"

After checking his wrist watch, and determining that Castiel should be at work by now, Dean turned to leave. His hand was on the door when Zachariah called his attention back with a clearing of throat. With his countenance carefully wiped blank, Dean pivoted just enough to meet his boss's gaze.

"I haven't received a report from your partner."

Dean didn't have an explanation for that. Virgil had called in the day after the break-in, Dean had advised him to lay low so that Castiel had time to forget his face, but after that - nothing. Virgil either took the advice to heart and disappeared off the map, or he had run into some serious trouble. Dean was a little worried, but he knew the man could very well take care of himself. "I told him to lay low to keep Castiel from spooking on us."

"I still need his report."

"I'll get a message to him." Even if it was just a voicemail.

Zachariah nodded before turning his attention to his computer monitor, effectively dismissing Dean. A push of shoulder and the agent left, moving back down the hallway to wait at the gleaming elevator doors. He sort of wished he could wait until that evening to catch Castiel. Parading him out in cuffs in front of his co-workers was not something Dean wanted to put Castiel through. Hell, he wished he could take it all back, but it was too late.

The wheels were already in motion.

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **__Wow, the response from you guys has blown me away. Thank you so much, it means a lot to me. As a show of my thanks to those who enjoy the story, here is a next-day update.__**  
2.) **__I totally used Virgil.  
__**3.) **__Dean's a freakin' married man.__ He did mention Ben's name forever ago.**  
4.) **__In response to Ginny, and any of those sharing that opinion, I just want to clarify that it was not my intention to bash Dean. I adore Dean, and I adore his very male persona of burying all his emotions and putting up a tough front and refusing to show any sign of weakness. Michael is not a fan of him, obviously, and my chapters are colored with the opinion of who is the main focus. So last chapter was filtered through Michael's point of view. I hope this chapter shows that no, I'm not angling Dean to be the bad guy. In my opinion there isn't a bad guy in this story. Just people. Wonderful, emotional, flawed people that make certain choices for certain reasons. We all make mistakes._

_Next Chapter - Castiel should have knocked on wood because he thought his life couldn't get any worse. To start off, he's late for work..  
_


	13. Dearest Miranda

**Part XIII  
Dearest Miranda  
**

2:32 PM

Castiel stared wide-eyed at the red numbers as if they were three little ghosts gazing right back at him from his bedside. He blinked once, twice, three times but the only change came as the minute passed. It couldn't be two in the afternoon - it just couldn't. Castiel reached out to tilt the clock downward and verify that his alarm had been turned off - or never turned on. Castiel wasn't sure of either case, but even without an alarm to wake him in the morning, he was baffled to how late it was in the day. Someone should have at least called him to ask why he hadn't shown up for work.

It all felt so surreal.

Castiel raked fingers through his tousled hair and drowsily looked around his bedroom. The clothing haphazardly strewn across the floor served as a reminder to last night activities. Spotting his tie cinched around a pair of slats in the head board, and remembering how his wrist had been tied there, caused a spark of heat to shoot through his nerves and pool traitorously in his groin. He leaned over and quickly loosened the tie and tossed it toward the end of the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in a moment of pique.

Once again he had not been strong enough to say _no_.

He wondered if this was how re-lapsing junkies felt. He wanted to rip out his own hair, to smash his head and fists into the wall, all the while he just wanted to curl up until the world faded away into nothing. Castiel sniffed back the tears that were threatening to build. The sheets next to him were rumpled but empty, and Castiel took a moment to listen to the silence of the empty apartment. No sound of a shower running, no smell of a late breakfast cooking, no hum of a television left on for background noise. Nothing but a hollow silence that made Castiel's throat feel thick.

Castiel pushed the sheets aside and scrounged the floor for clothing. He pulled on the first t-shirt he found on the floor and scrounged a pair of jeans from his closet. His feet shuffled over the floor boards as he made his way into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. He found his phone on the counter and scowled when he noticed that someone (named Lucifer) had turned off the volume. So far Castiel had missed eight calls and had just as many voice mails.

None of them were from Lucifer or Dean.

There was one from Michael, but Castiel deleted it before he could listen to it because he didn't feel like he could deal with his brother's condescending attitude on top of everything else.

As Castiel mixed vanilla creamer into his first cup of coffee something brushed up against his ankle. He blinked down at the fuzz ball of a kitten staring back up at him with brilliant blue eyes. Castiel snorted before he picked up the feline, cupping her to his chest with a quick scratch of fingers between her ears to start her purring engine. The cup of coffee and kitten were taken to the living room where Castiel all but collapsed on the couch and blankly stared at the dark screen of the tv.

"I think I should call in sick," He announced to the empty room.

The kitten was sniffing intently at his hip and when Castiel pushed her little nose away he found several dots of blood dried along the hem of the shirt. Castiel's brow creased with confusion as he took a better look at the small spray pattern. He then plucked at the front of the shirt that was too loose to belong to his slender frame. Castiel belatedly recognized the pattern and color being that of the shirt Lucifer had been wearing last night. But why was there —

* * *

_"There's blood on your shirt."_

_"Hm?" Lucifer, having pinned Castiel to the corner of the couch, drew back to blink down at his shirt._

_Castiel pointed to the small collection of red dots along Lucifer's shoulder._

_Lucifer picked dismissively at it, "Would you believe me if I said it was ketchup?"_

_Promptly a scowl marred Castiel's features, "I did not pursue forensic science for the last four years to mistake ketchup for blood."_

_"Alright then," Lucifer shrugged. "It's blood."_

_His boyfriend moved to claim his lips but Castiel dodged the attempted and pushed on his chest. "You were hurt?"_

_A guarded expression slipped over Lucifer's features, "No."_

_Castiel felt his stomach sink, "Is it even your blood?"_

_There was only a second of pause, "No."_

_"Why do you have someone else's blood on your shirt?"_

_Lucifer firmly held his gaze for a long, silent moment. "I told you before that I would never lie to you, Castiel, but there are things that you probably don't want to know, and you shouldn't know for your own safety."_

_"Nick..."_

_"Ask again, and I will tell you the truth."_

_A troubled crease formed between Castiel's brows._

* * *

Castiel didn't want to know why there was blood on the shirt.

He sipped at his coffee trying not to think about it.

"Let's get you some food," He mumbled to the kitten, desperate to focus on anything other than the blood. He'd throw it into the laundry when he got around to taking a shower. A knocking on his door put a damper on Castiel's plans. The coffee was left on the counter as Castiel went to check on his visitor. Upon seeing Dean through the peep hole, Castiel hastily undid the locks and pulled the door open.

Castiel smiled, a mixture of relief and nerves, because he didn't think he'd ever seen Dean standing at his threshold after last night. "Dean."

The detective's green eyes flicked over him, but his expression was on the side of forlorn. "Hey Cas.. you weren't at work."

The smile began to waver, but Castiel chuckled to try and mask his inner distress at seeing the colorful bruising centered around Dean's nose. God he was hoping the blood on his shirt didn't belong to Dean, because it would just figure that Lucifer would go and deck Castiel's potential new boyfriend. Castiel nervously rubbed at the back of his neck while staring at the myriad of purple and red. "Yeah, I kind of over slept.."

By like six hours...

Castiel held the door open a little wider in invitation. Dean looked uncertain, and Castiel couldn't blame him after the awkwardness last night. Still, Dean was there - maybe even a little worried since Castiel hadn't shown up at work. Castiel was going to take it as a good sign. It took a moment, but Dean eventually stepped into the apartment and the door was closed behind him. The detective idled in the foyer connecting the kitchen to the living room.

Castiel nervously wrung his hands, "Do you need an ice pack.. ?"

Dean touched the bridge of his nose as if he had completely forgotten that his face looked like he had butted heads with a brick wall. His voice came out low, subdued, "I'm fine."

"Coffee?"

A shake of head in reply.

Castiel glanced away, tracking the passage of the kitten as she darted from the living room to make a feint at Dean's shoes before skittering off toward the bedroom. The silence was beginning to settle in, fueling Castiel's nervous feeling. Soon he was tugging at the neck of the shirt that was too big for his slender frame. His mindset was starting to edge toward panic as he silently prayed Dean couldn't smell last night's sex on him.

He really wished he had promptly showered after getting up.

"I... " He began uncertainly while rubbing one palm over the other and looking no higher than his hands. "I broke it off with Nick."

Hope swelled in his chest, giving Castiel the courage to glance up to briefly meet Dean's sea-green eyes. He managed a nervous smile before dropping his gaze back down to his restless hands. "I'm sorry about last night, my head was all messed up because of him, but I want you to know.."

"Cas.. "

"Please, let me finish," Castiel cut him while raising both hands toward the detective. "I was unfair to you last night. I shouldn't expect you to just accept my messed up situation with him. But I want you to know that I'm done with it - with him. And - and if you're still interested, I would still really like to.. I don't know.. go out for drinks sometime? I'm not asking for anything, I don't have any expectations. You asked me to give you a chance - and I guess I'm hoping you'll give me a second chance."

Castiel inched forward a step before daring another look at Dean's face. The detective looked so conflicted, and even worse when Castiel took in the faint glisten of repressed tears. He tried for a smile to ease whatever mood had caused the distraught. Swallowing thickly, Castiel braved another step closer to rest both hands against Dean's collar bones.

"It's okay," because he didn't know what else to say. Castiel debated with himself a couple of seconds before drawing close and gently pressing his lips against Dean's. His heart promptly soared to cloud nine as the kiss was returned. _Thank you_, Castiel tried to voice through a firmer press of lips and a slip of tongue. His nerve tips were dancing with a feverous joy at every brush of lips.

Screw work, Castiel was going to spend the rest of his afternoon discovering the best way to slot his lips with Dean's. A soft hum in the back of throat vocalized his enjoyment, and the faint curl of fingertips against Dean's scalp asked for more. Dean's hand grazed up Castiel's forearm, curled around his wrist–

–the click of a hand cuff cinching to a close made Castiel's eyes widen. He drew back to blink at the metal encircling his wrist. He couldn't read the expression on Dean's face (it was so serious) but he tried to chuckle aside his surprise, "I'm okay with some light bondage, but hand cuffs really aren't my thing."

Another nervous laugh.

"Usually people opt for fuzzy cuffs.."

Dean didn't crack a smile, "Castiel Novak."

His heart began to race, but thinking this was nothing more than a joke, Castiel continued to try and smile. Dean was just messing with him.

"You're under arrest."

"Dean," Castiel winced as his arm was pulled down, then he was forced to turn around as Dean grabbed for his other arm. "This isn't funny."

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law."

"Dean!" Castiel jerked his second wrist away, but Dean held on tight, applying pressure to the joint to detour Castiel from repeating his attempt to escape. "I'm serious - what are you doing? Let me go!"

"You have the right to consult an attorney before—"

"Dean, you're fucking scaring me." Castiel thrashed, not at all liking the controlling grip on his wrists. While it was true that he liked his partners to be on the dominant side , this was pushing it way too far. He bucked, pulled, twisted, but it wasn't long before Dean had his arm torqued to a painful degree and Castiel was pressed flat against the wall.

To think just a second ago he had been kissing Dean instead of plaster.

"You're under arrest for harboring a fugitive, Cas."

"What? You can't – you mean _Lucifer?_ Jesus Christ Dean, you were here with me, you could have said something then."

Wait - that had to mean that someone reported Lucifer even being there, and as far as Castiel knew, Dean was the only other person that had known the man was in the apartment. Castiel wasn't even going to argue the point about not knowing there were active warrants out for Lucifer's arrest. He didn't know of any specifically, but there was always one somewhere - likely issued from another state.

"Dean..."

"Cas, please.. don't make this harder than it already is."

The plea in Dean's voice gutted the remainder of Castiel's protest. His shoulders went slack and Dean took the opportunity to cuff his other wrist and finishing where he left off on the Miranda. Afterward a thick silence settled between them. Dean lead him out of the apartment, down the hall, and Castiel for all the world was in a daze as the soft music in the elevator floated around them. It wasn't until they stepped outside and Castiel's felt the frigid concrete beneath his toes did he realize he hadn't had time to put on shoes.

Castiel took one last glance at his apartment building before turning a hesitant gaze to Dean's expressionless features, "What about Lucifer?"

"What about him?" Dean snapped with a punctuating growl.

Nothing could hide the wince Castiel did in reaction to the harsh tone, "I meant the cat."

"Couldn't you have named it something else - _anything_ else?"

Falling back into silence, Castiel did little but stare at his feet as Dean angrily lead him down the block. It wasn't the Impala that Dean approached. Castiel had a moment to blink at the unmarked squad car before being eased into the back seat. At least he wasn't shoved, because at this point Castiel wouldn't put it past Dean to do such a thing. The detective seemed to be taking his frustration out on him. It was hard not to take it personally, but Castiel did his best to reason that Dean wasn't happy about arresting him, and Castiel also was beginning to understand that anger was Dean's fall-back as far as emotions went.

Castiel curled his toes into the clean, gray upholstery of the car that smelled fairly new. When Dean entered, the detective did little more than sit angrily behind the steering wheel; didn't even turn the ignition. Castiel swallowed before softly speaking. "Angel?"

Dean gave him a sharp glance via the rearview mirror.

"I could call her Angel.. if that's better.. ?"

The detective sighed, his hands gripping tightly at the wheel. "I don't care what you call the damn cat, Castiel."

It sounded like it mattered to Dean just a second or two ago, but Castiel let it go. He leaned forward to better glimpse at Dean's profile. "You don't need to be angry, Dean. I understand.. I know you're just doing your job and it's not like I didn't know my involvement with—"

"Shut up, Cas. Just shut up. The right to remain silent means you should shut up if you know what's good for you."

"It's not my first time in hand cuffs, Dean."

"Then shut the fuck up!"

"Not until you explain to me why you're being such an asshole - I'm trying to make this easier for you."

"Oh believe me Cas, it was easy as fucking pie, but you want to know the problem here? Fine." Dean pulled his badge from his breast pocket, but when it fell open it wasn't a detective badge that Castiel saw, it was the bold lettering of F.B.I next to Dean's name that grabbed his attention. "There's your god damn problem."

Castiel felt something in the back of his mind twist and break, "You're FBI."

"Great, you know how to read. I'm relieved."

Castiel eased back, his eyes glued to the back of Dean's head. There was only one reason why an F.B.I. agent would take interest in him. Which meant that from day one Dean had been toying around with him. "And I'm... ?"

"Just some mook I'm using to get close to Lucifer."

A coldness seeped across Castiel's chest, spreading all the way to his fingers and toes. If Dean's expression could be considered blank, Castiel's was ice. He locked gazes with the green eyes watching him through the mirror. "Ah."

Dean's eyes narrowed, "Ah? That's all you've got to say - ah?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel toned with false modesty with a stoic mask to match his brother's, "I believe you said I had the right to remain silent."

There were appropriate dirty looks from Dean before he turned on the car and pulled into traffic. It wasn't long before Dean was turning up the volume on the radio even though there was no form of conversation to drown out. It must have been a college station, because Castiel didn't recognize the song for the usual tunes they repeated a hundred times over on the other stations he often found himself listening to while at work.

—_the perfect hassle for the perfumed kiss  
He makes you miss him more than home_

_You love him_  
_You love him more than this_  
_You love him and you cannot, you can't resist_  
_You love him_  
_You love him for yourself_  
_You love him and no one, no one—_

The lyrics cut off as the scan button was jammed by Dean's annoyed fingers. It only took a half second for it to land on a different station.

_Love hurts...  
But sometimes it's a good hurt and it feels like I'm alive  
Love sings,  
When it transcends the bad things.  
Have a heart and try me, 'cause without love I won't survive_

_I'm fettered and abused,_  
_I stand naked and accused_  
_I only want the truth—_

The next few stations were only settled on a few seconds each until Dean found something that was suitably angry. Castiel resolved to lean his temple against the window and stare out the glass the remainder of the trip. He knew he should feel betrayed - by Dean, by Lucifer, by Michael. Yet Castiel felt a void in him and only a quiet disappointment in himself for having been such a fool. Michael had tried to warn him by telling him to stay away from Dean, and Lucifer had hinted toward Dean not being a good choice, but in the end Castiel had not listened.

To be fair, he was terrible at picking up on the subtle clues.

The car pulled up to a building that Castiel didn't recognize. It wasn't the station, or any precinct that he knew, but it hardly mattered in the end. Dean was once again watching him in the mirror as they sat idling in the parking lot. "Cas, listen, I—"

"Don't bother," Castiel's growled with indignation. "There is nothing you can say that will change the fact that you still have to do your job."

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **__Dean really needs to work on properly expressing himself.  
__**2.) **__There's a million and one love-ish songs I could have picked. I used Daphne Descends by Smashing Pumpkins and Love Hurts by Incubus.  
__**3.) **__Cas probably should have listened to that voice mail from Michael._

_Next Chapter - Interrogation room time!_


	14. Moral Dilemma

**Part XIV  
Moral Dilemma **

"So this is Lucifer's _Juliet_?"

Zachariah didn't notice the way Dean's jaw tightened. The agent had yet to turn away from the one-way mirror that allowed him to look into the interrogation room without being seen. It had been a few hours since he brought Castiel in, and it was tradition to let a suspect stew a while without outside contact to help loosen lips. Dean had tried busying himself elsewhere in the building. First with paperwork, then with idle chit-chat with co-workers, but in the end he found himself standing there by the window in concern. Apparently at some point someone had taken Castiel's shirt and it was obvious that the man felt exposed without it.

It probably wasn't very warm in there.

"Huh.. " Zachariah again tried to engage Dean into conversation. "I thought there would be more to him."

Dean brought his mug of coffee to his lips but didn't drink, "Like?"

"I don't know, something more flamboyant?"

Dean snorted, sending ripples across the surface of his coffee before he took a sip to avoid commenting in response to Zachariah's narrow opinion. Castiel was a far cry from being the flaming homosexual Zachariah was likely expecting. Dean wondered if his boss even knew that he swung both ways and most people pegged him as a strictly ladies man.

"Well," Zachariah handed the case files over, "Lucifer must keep him around for some reason. Have a go at him and see what you can dig up for us."

_Shit._

Dean quelled the inner flail behind an impassive mask and entered into the room.

{...}

It wasn't all that cold, but Castiel had taken to hunching over the table and curling his arms around himself as if he was caught outside in the frigid wind. He really wished the man that had taken his shirt had brought him a replacement one. It became obvious after a while - and a how long it had been he didn't know - in the small room set with only a metal table and matching chairs, time seemed to slow until minutes became hours - but it became clear that they hadn't brought him a shirt to purposely make him uncomfortable. Detectives at the precinct often used similar tactics to make suspects more compliant, usually it was food being eaten in front of people who hadn't eaten all day.

Castiel was trying to not let it get to him.

He knew he had failed at that task when upon hearing the door open, his head eagerly lifted. The sight of Dean made his heart flounder and sink to pit of his stomach. Castiel swallowed and returned to staring at the battered surface of the table. A folder was tossed into his view and a mug of coffee was set just out of reach on the other side of the table. A chair scraped nosily across the floor as Dean took the seat across from him.

The silence persisted.

The weight of Dean's gaze was felt, but Castiel refused to meet it. He didn't want Dean to see the hurt that had festered while he had sat alone in the barren room. He did watch the folder as it was pulled closer to Dean and opened to reveal the neatly typed documents. There was a picture held inside with a paperclip, but it was covered by the papers. Castiel stared at the corner of it, wondering what sort of incriminating photo had been included with his file.

As silly as it was, he was hoping it was nothing pornographic in nature because he had been telling himself to replace the bedroom curtains since the day he moved in to his current apartment.

Dean must have noticed the stare, because he removed the picture and set it on the table between them. Castiel reached for it out of reflex, then winced as the handcuffs dug into his wrists. He'd been cuffed to the edge of the table by one of the other officers. It shortened his reach considerably. His long fingers fell short of the photograph. Castiel finally looked up at Dean, wondering if the man had put the picture there on purpose just to see Castiel struggle to reach it.

Instead Dean wore a puzzled expression that was directed at the handcuffs.

"Apparently," Castiel drew his hands back toward his chest. "Informants on Lucifer have a habit of going missing before trial. They wanted to make sure I didn't go anywhere."

His blue eyes lowered back to the photograph. It took him a moment to reel back his memory enough to put a time and location on the image before him. It showed him sitting awkwardly at an outdoor cafe while Lucifer was leaning over to kiss him. Lucifer had never been a shy one. Castiel, while not ashamed of his preferences, was still not big on public displays of affection and Lucifer had done well to embarrass the hell out of him that day. Even now the picture and vague memory made a faint blush color Castiel's cheeks. "That was Spring Break during my first year in college.."

Which meant he had been under the FBI's scrutiny for a good few years.

"I gotta ask," Dean slipped the photo back under the paperclip. "Why him?"

Castiel wasn't sure how that question was relevant to any case that the bureau was trying to build against Lucifer. It was more of question Michael often asked him out of brotherly concern - that his older brother didn't understand why Castiel involved himself with such a bad person. Castiel decided that Dean was asking to try and get him to warm up to him again, to make him feel comfortable before asking the real questions.

"It's more of a matter of _why me_, Dean."

"I don't follow, care to elaborate that for me?"

Which was cop jargon for keep talking until something useful slipped through the cracks. Castiel mentally shrugged, finding no harm in sharing his past with Dean. In a way he wanted to put it all out on the table for Dean to know - a bitter part hoping that it would serve as a kick to Dean's teeth to have to listen to someone speak fondly of Lucifer.

"He chose me, not the other way around. I was a sophomore in High School and he was.. well he was supposed to be a Senior, but he got held back and ended up a grade between me and Michael. He just kind of showed up in my life one day and never left. I didn't understand why at the time because he was.. I think the term is 'out of my league'? He was confident, charismatic, made friends easily and wasn't scared of anything. And me? I was just.. a nobody.

* * *

_"I don't think he's a bad guy."_

_Castiel looked up from his Physics homework to glance at the evening news on the television. It was muted with the subtitles going so that Nick could watch it without it being disturbing. Castiel recognized the images of the shootout that had happened a couple states over. It was the same story that had played earlier that morning. Apparently some man had walked into office building with a gun and ended up killing three people before he was subdued. "He killed three people."_

_"He killed the three executives that were stealing money from the company and laying off the people just to add to their own pay checks."_

_Castiel tried to re-focus on his homework, "That doesn't mean he can kill them."_

_"Why not? Here are these men that are stepping on the backs of their employees and getting away with it. So this guy finally gets fed up with it and stands against them. He's got to know that he doesn't have a chance in the legal system when they could just keep throwing money at him in legal fees until he's forced to give up. Staging a protest won't get anything done. He does what no one will do - he stopped them."_

_Castiel patiently tapped the end of his eraser against his text book, "Thou shall not kill."_

_"And thou shall not steal," Lucifer snorted. "But what if you killed someone to save another. What if you killed a man that was molesting his children, or a man trafficking girls to sell as sex slaves, would it be okay to kill that kind of man? What if you stole food to feed your starving family - would it be okay then? Where is the line drawn, what are the exceptions?"_

_Castiel leaned against the couch from where he sat on the floor, "I don't know, Nick. Maybe it depends where your heart is when you act. If you act in hate, in revenge, it would be a sin. In love.."_

_"No, that can't work, because you hear about those crimes of passion all the time. It makes love akin to insanity."_

_"I think this is why priests, like real priests, never do much of anything. They just turn the other cheek."_

_"But that makes them indifferent, and what kind of good does an indifferent man do for the world? If he sees evil being done but he won't do anything to stop it. I don't understand how that does any good."_

_"Well that guy did something about it, and in the end he got himself shot by the police for it."_

_"Yeah," Lucifer's brow furrowed as he went back to studying the news. "He didn't really think that through very well._

* * *

"It turned out we liked a lot of the same things," Castiel explained while examining the red rings around his wrists courtesy of the hand cuffs. "Music, books, and he loved philosophy. It was something he couldn't talk about with other people, but with me he felt like he could open up. He use to get so passionate when he would start talking about that kind of stuff and loved it when I debated with him."

A nostalgic smile spread across Castiel's face - he remembered the first time he had really looked at Lucifer and felt that feeling awe and nervous flip in his stomach, of when he had first started falling in love with him. It had been when Lucifer had been in a full on rant about meta-ethics. Lucifer had just been so amped up about it and Castiel had lost all sense that day because he had leaned forward to kiss Lucifer while he was mid-sentence.

"When we started to actually date, it was about a month later he told me the reason he first approached me was because he liked my brother."

Dean was giving him a bizarre look, but Castiel looked toward the mirror while wondering if Michael was on the other side and listening in to the conversation. He had never told his older brother what Lucifer had confessed to him. "But because Michael wasn't interested, wouldn't returned his affections, he went for the next best thing. My brother and I looked a lot more alike when we were younger, so Nick started to hang out with me.. at first he had just hoped to make Michael jealous."

"That sounds like a douche-bag move," Dean muttered.

Castiel shrugged before leveling a cold look on other man, "At least he told me the truth."

Dean dodged his look and Castiel bitterly hoped that it was because the words had stung.

"I accepted that he might always have a _thing_ for my brother, but I knew that he liked me for _me_ and not because I looked like Michael." His fingers curled loosely around the links connecting his handcuffs to the table, "He wasn't using me for anything."

"Just a fuck buddy then?"

Pain flared in Castiel's wrists as he violently jerked to slammed his fists on the table, "Why is it so hard for you to accept that he liked me, _for me_, and nothing else. I didn't do _jobs_ for him. I didn't run messages, I didn't handle any packages–"

"So you do know about what he does."

"_Dean_," A growl erupted from Castiel's throat as he again jerked his arms about in frustration. This time the pain was sharper as the metal grated against the delicate bones of his wrists, and when Castiel looked down he saw the blood running from his wrists to drip off his fingertips. The mere sight of blood instantly put a damper on Castiel's outburst. He flexed his fingers, watching them shake before he pressed them flat against the table.

The silence settled in, thickening, then without a word Dean stood and walked out of the room.

{...}

"What exactly are you doing in there?"

Dean tensed at the sight of Zachariah still standing on the other side of the window. He couldn't remember the last time - or there even was a last time - that his boss had listened in on one of his interrogation. If he had, the man likely knew this was far from how they usually played out. Dean was trying to do his job, to jab Castiel in the right direction to blurt out something they could use against Lucifer and in turn cut Castiel loose. Currently he was failing miserably at his job. Dean's mind threw forward the usual bravado, "Just letting him get himself all worked up. He's bound to slip up and give us something worthwhile."

Zachariah crossed his arms, "In the meantime we have to listen to his pathetic life story?"

"Each case is different."

"I want results, Winchester. They anticipate that Lucifer is going to move on us again. We need to act while he's still in the city."

"I understand, sir."

"Need I remind you that your career is resting on this?"

Dean calmly shook his head even as a few choice curses flew through his head. "No sir."

{...}

The blood was beginning to bother him.

Castiel ran through the rules law enforcement were required to abide to when it came to these situations. Although, officers of the law, and detectives, bent rules were they saw the need in order to solve a case (It was the same kind of moral interpretation that Lucifer often did - not that any of them would ever agree. Everyone did it to some extent.). Talk around the office gave Castiel the impression that the FBI were even worse about following any guide lines. As long as they got results, the end justified the means. For all Castiel knew, the FBI could keep him there indefinitely, just let him sit there and bleed all night if they felt so inclined.

The door opened, and Castiel's blue eyes honed hopefully on Dean. "Can I speak with Michael?"

Dean glanced toward the mirror, and Castiel followed suit while wondering if his brother was on the other side watching the whole affair. If so, clearly the answer was no - that either Michael wasn't allowed to talk to him, or he just didn't want to. Dean didn't clarify, but surprised Castiel by dragging a chair around the table to sit next to him. Castiel curiously watched as Dean removed the handcuffs and drew his injured wrist close to begin wiping away the blood with a damp rag Castiel hadn't noticed being brought back into the room.

It was warm against his skin, and Dean attended to the task with the utmost care and gentle touches. It made Castiel's heart ache because he once again found himself confused about how he was suppose to feel toward the man that had lied to him, toyed with him, and now was treating his wounds with such a tender kindness.

"You need to give Lucifer up, Cas."

It was spoken in a soft, sincere tone but Castiel did little but stare at the agent, undecided on whether or not he believed Dean was being genuine. The past colored his opinion to believe that Dean was once again pretending to care.

"If you don't," Dean's sea-green eyes slowly raised to meet Castiel's brooding gaze, "You're going to get tossed into a prison in his place."

"You make that sound like the only reasonable choice," Castiel's voice was barely above a whisper since Dean was so close. He searched Dean's eyes for a show of understanding. "But it's not a conscionable choice for me."

"What about all the people's he's hurt. Is it conscionable for you to ignore their suffering?"

"I cannot speak for Lucifer, but as I know him, he always had reasons for his actions - just like you have your reasons for hurting me. _Do not_ speak to me as if you have the higher moral ground, that you can reason with me about what _you_ think is right, and what you think is wrong. We each make our own choices based on our individual beliefs, and while I do not agree with what Lucifer has done in the past, and I don't want him to be in my life anymore, I will not betray him."

"I don't understand you, Cas." Dean still had his hand curled around his forearm despite having finished the bandage. "Why can't you do the easy thing and give him up."

"In the end, our choices make us." Castiel curled his free hand over the one on his arm. "It's the harder choices that we are usually afraid of making, but in the end they are the more important choices in our lives."

"Does that have something in there about making stupid choices?"

"It might only sound stupid because you're afraid to do it."

Dean smiled, looking dazed, "You're so weird, Cas."

It sounded affectionate even if the words were mockingly phrased. Castiel lightly squeezed Dean's hand in response, the action sparking an emotional storm in the other man's eyes. The emotions chased each other back and forth across Dean's face; all too quickly for Castiel to properly register. He was conflicted, that much Castiel could tell, but _about what_ remained unknown. Castiel managed a lopsided smile, "I'll take that as a compliment."

The light hearted moment was interrupted by the door opening, and Castiel was quick to recognize the dark-skinned man as his brother's partner. "Is Michael here?"

"Oh I'm sure he's around here somewhere," For some reason that Castiel couldn't quite explain, Victor's tone put him on edge.

Dean was tensing beside him, "I got this covered."

"Yeah," Henriksen's dark eyes shifted pointed from Dean to Castiel and back again. "I'm sure you do. I was watching from the other side and couldn't help but be touched." He held his coffee aloft while tapping fingers over his heart. "Right here. It was moving, really, who would have thought a cold blooded killer was such a loving boyfriend."

Castiel hung his head as his cheeks colored.

"Although, Mr. Novak - may I call you Castiel? It has a nice ring to it - maybe you can explain to me why such a great guy like Nick left you here to rot."

Instantly Castiel wanted to dispute the man's words, but he was struck with doubt. What if, since he more or less sent Nick away, there wasn't going to be an out this time. What if Lucifer really had left him to deal on his own, even if the problem was there _because_ of Lucifer.

"I guess it was his 'hard choice' to purchase a flight to the Caribbean - I hear he's got a place there, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, would you. Ah," Henriksen waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. We'll find you a nice place in a low security institute. Maybe can even swing you a place with a view. If you don't mind looking at it through barbed wire and chain link fences."

Castiel couldn't lie to himself, the idea of going to prison scared him. His mind raced, seeking a rational conclusion. He wasn't well versed in law, but he had sat in the courtroom on the cases he worked, and even took the stand when they needed his testimonial. "Even if you do convict me on the grounds of harboring a fugitive, the maximum sentence is a year, and even then most of that will be deferred."

Henriksen shrugged, "It'll be enough to keep you nice and close until the charges go through on you for being an accessory to murder, from there it's a long list of other crimes you assisted Lucifer in committing. I reckon we could keep you in and out of the system for the rest of your life."

Castiel felt like he had been plunged into the depths of an ice lake. Suddenly everything was dark and he was afraid but the all encompassing cold kept him from being able to properly think. His eyes slowly widened with a growing sense of panic. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison.

"Murder?" Dean was peering oddly at Henriksen.

"The blood on your boy's shirt? Turns it out matches one of our agents that's been MIA the last couple of days. So Castiel," Victors dark eyes shifted back to the man of the hour. "Care to confess now and save us all a great deal of trouble."

Castiel's brow furrowed, "I didn't kill anyone."

"Then why is it that his blood is all over your shirt."

"It's not my shirt."

"That's what they all say. It's not my gun, it's not my knife, I've never seen that man before in my life. Yada-ya."

"I did not murder anyone."

Henriksen sat on the corner of the table nearest to Castiel, "So you're saying our man is still alive. Where are you keeping him, some backwoods cabin, a secret torture room in the basement, a storage shed?"

Castiel's mind snapped - skipping across his thoughts at light speed to land at a time and place so far from the interrogation room. He turned to Dean, seizing the man's shirt in his hands as he leaned closer. "Storage shed. The man - there was a receipt for a storage shed. Pintler Storage Units. _Dean_. She's there, she has to be there."

Clearly puzzled, Dean wrapped his hands around Castiel's and tried to ease him back. "She who, Cas, what are you talking about?"

"Kaila," Castiel fingers curled more tightly. "The little girl - the kidnapped girl. I took the trash, remember? There was a receipt. He recently rented a storage shed outside of town. He made other purchases - a mattress. He bought a new mattress. Judging by the price it was probably a single–"

"Cas, slow down."

"_Call Sam_," Castiel pleaded. "The information is there in the lab. He can use it to find her."

"Winchester," Henriksen demanded Dean's attention. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"A case he was working on, a missing eight year old girl. We traced it to a suspect, but never found her." Dean murmured to the other agent before settling his gaze back on Castiel. He once again look troubled, and his whisper reflected his frustration. "Why is it you are concerned about anyone but yourself."

The words were punctuated with a growl as Dean stood and quickly vacated the room.

Castiel smiled, relieved - at least he was until he realized he'd been left alone with Henriksen. The man smiled in the wake of the frown that was reclaiming Castiel's features.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?"

{...}

"No Sam, Cas is fine.. " Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture of aggravation. "He slept in all doped up on thera-flu. Apparently he's got one of those twenty-four hour bugs. But hey listen, he had this lucid moment and said that Kaila is in a storage shed, that there was a receipt he found in the guy's trash. He was really adamant about her being there. So if you're not too busy, it might be worth it to check it out just to be safe."

_"Yeah, totally, you want me to pick you up?"_

"No, no... " Dean became aware of a person standing expectantly behind him. "Call me if you find anything. I gotta go."

Turning around, Dean had to take a step back on reflex. The sight of Michael still made him a touch paranoid that the guy was going to go ballistic on him again. Michael had more of a reason to deck him now than before, what with his little brother being held for questioning. The narrowed look Michael wore certain didn't bode well.

A plastic wrapped parcel was thrust into his hands, and Dean blinked down at the blue and gold shirt inside the evidence bag. "What's this?"

"The shirt Castiel was wearing when you brought him in. The blood on it is a match to your partner, Virgil."

Dean's eyes widened. "Is he–?"

"Dead? We can't know for sure until a body is found, but given Lucifer's track record, I wouldn't get your hopes up." If anything, Michael looked more pissed. "I told you, Winchester, you don't know the first thing about how to work this case. What the hell did you think was going to happen when Lucifer caught wind of a man breaking into Castiel's apartment? Did you not even bother to read up on who Castiel is, in regards to Lucifer, before you barged in on the case?"

"I—"

"Spare me the hubris. You were only focused on getting results regardless of the cost. This blood–" Michael jabbed at the wrapped shirt. "Is on your hands. Not Lucifer's, and certainly not on Castiel's. This is what happens when you play fast and loose. People get hurt."

"You made your point, Michael." Dean already felt like a worthless piece of shit, this was a over-kill. He glared down at the shirt, "Why the hell are you giving me this."

"Because _you_ can log it into evidence since this is officially your case, not mine."

Dean blinked at that, "You came all the way up here to make me do bitch work."

"I just wanted to see your pretty face," Michael mocked while taking in Dean's bruises.

"Shouldn't you be worried about your brother?"

Michael let forth a contemptuous snort before smiling, "You know what, for once, I'm not."

Dean's brows lifted in surprise. "Dude, you brother is looking at prison time."

"All thanks to you."

Talk about a low blow. Not cool.

Dean decided he was done talking with Michael. Right, he got it, he was the ultimate douche-bag. Message received. Dean turned, evidence in hand, and stalked down the hallway.

"Be sure to get that to evidence, Winchester." Michael called to his retreating back. "Evidence like this always has a way of going missing. The bureau thinks Lucifer has an insider, so make sure you do things right if you want this case to go through."

"I'll log your god damn evidence. _Christ, _I'm pretty fucking sure I can do that right."

Dean grumbled all the way to the elevators. As he was waiting for the doors to open for him, a light went on - quite literally above his head as the elevator arrived at his floor - and he had a dawning realization. Dean blinked down at the shirt in his hands, then whirled around to stare back down the hall, but Michael was already gone.

"Holy shit."

Michael couldn't possibly be suggesting – "Oh fuck,"

He didn't know what he should do - what was the right choice to make?

The elevator doors opened.

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **__I meant to leave it vague at the end, purely to ask you guys caught what is going on here. __**  
2.) **__The angst-monster has been aptly fed.__**  
3.) **__You get to read the budding moments of when Lucifer started to become the person he is in the present  
__**4.) **__This whole chapter revolves around what Castiel said to Dean: Our choices make us.  
**5.)** It will probably be a few days before my next update. Fear not.  
_


	15. Carry On

**Part XV  
Carry On**

It took three weeks to get Castiel acquitted of all charges.

Three agonizing weeks of jumping through hoops, cutting corners, and walking a razor thin line. Dean barely kept himself from falling apart at the seams. Whiskey served as the glue that kept it all together. It also was his ultimate undoing. Sober became the excruciating few hours between the time he woke up to the time his first drink dulled his senses.

During the second week Dean had given up on shaving.

It all began on the elevator, during the impossibly long descent between the fourth and second floor. Dean had held the heavy weight of decision in his hand. Something so simple as a shirt had the power to alter his life forever. It was his very career he held in his hand, and what he'd done still baffled him.

The scorch marks still marred the tacky non-slip flowers lining the bottom of his motel tub from where he had torched the shirt. Every time he stepped into the shower and saw the marks staring up at him from between his toes and it served as a constant reminder. All it took was the fluid from a broken lighter he'd found on the curb outside the station, and one small matchbook courtesy of the motel for smoking customers. Just a flick of a match and Dean had sat on the toilet seat watching the shirt turn to thin flecks of ash. Then, turning on the shower head, Dean had quite literally washed his career down the drain.

And for what?

He had tossed away everything for a guy that likely thought he was the lowest scum that ever walked the Earth. Dean had tempered with evidence just to watch the rest of the puzzle pieces slot into place. The big picture wasn't yet complete, but Dean had seen enough to realize this whole thing was Lucifer's way of claiming Castiel. In the end, Castiel was going to be driven back into Lucifer's waiting arms with the impression that he never should have left - and now would never leave again.

And Dean, damn fool that he was, had played his part and played it well.

The days passed by in a blur. Dean had to officially out himself to the precinct. Ellen had been informed about the undercover investigation from day one and while she had been pissed about it, saying Castiel was a 'good kid', she had kept her mouth shut on the details. Bobby Singer had shrugged, saying he had known Dean was FBI the moment he walked in the door because, quote, only a Fed would have his head so far up his own ass to strut around the way Dean did. Sam had given him a thoughtful look, a peak of brows, then asked if they were still on for pizza and beers come Saturday.

Dean had cancelled on the account of feeling like shit and not wanting to talk about it.

The only one that took the news poorly was Charlie. She had thrown her latte in his face before storming off and yelling about how she should have checked into him and then there had been something said about Castiel but Dean hadn't caught it as she sped around the corner. Dean didn't see Charlie again until he was handing over paperwork to Ellen later that day. Charlie had shown up with a strangely familiar white kitten tucked close to her chest. Dean had followed her, wide-eyed and confused, and all the while wanting to snatch the cat right out of her hands because it had been given to Castiel as a gift - it wasn't hers!

Was Castiel giving the kitten away because it was from Dean.. ?

He trailed Charlie to one of the back rooms and watched Charlie hand the kitten over to a little girl tucked away in the corner. It took a moment for him to realize the girl was eight year old Kaila. Sam had taken the lead Dean had passed on from Castiel. Kaila had been found in a storage shed, half-starved and scared to death. She hadn't spoken a word since they brought her to the station. But now the little girl was uncurling herself from the tight posture to reach out and take the kitten.

Dean couldn't find it in himself to stay mad.

Charlie caught sight of him on the way out. She shot him a sharp glare, "Castiel would have wanted her to have the cat."

Dean, not wanting to incite Charlie into another moment of pique, just nodded.

The next day Dean swung by Castiel's apartment just to make sure everything was alright while Castiel was on lock down. What he walked into was a stab to the heart. Castiel's things were being packed into boxes. At first he thought Castiel had made arrangements to move as soon as he got out of custody. The truth was apparently the land lord had caught wind of Castiel's involvement with a 'notorious criminal' and had taken measures to evict Castiel. Dean had about lost his cool. He managed to get out after angrily grabbing one of the boxes and telling the land lord where to store the rest of it.

Proudly, Dean had enough self control to not tell him to shove it all where the sun don't shine.

So that was how Dean ended up with a box of Castiel's clothes in his cramped motel room. Seeing it there further drove Dean to the bottle. He drank until he could no longer see straight. And, unfortunately, in his drunken haze he had gotten into the box and the next morning he had woken up on the couch cuddling one of Castiel's shirts. God, he was such a pathetic mess. He almost torched the box of clothes in a fit of rage.

"Ten years is a long time."

Dean snapped out of his reverie, the last three weeks stopping it's constant reply through his mind. He blinked a few times, taking in the crap view outside of Tran's office window. He couldn't quite remember how he had ended up there. At some point in his floating moments between drunken numbness and soberness, he had gotten the bright idea to come sit on the behavior analyst's couch. Kevin was too polite to refuse him.

"Men like Lucifer crave control. I can't say for certain unless I talk with him personally.."

Dean smirked at the mental image of Kevin and Lucifer in the same room; like a guppie and a shark together in a small tank. He doubted Kevin would last ten seconds against the man.

".. but from what you've told me, I can only make a guess based off of what I was taught."

Dean scratched at his chin to ease the itch of the light stubble growing in along his jaw. His hand lazily trailed down his neck, feeling the grit beneath his nails. He'd been avoiding the shower because of the burn marks left on the tub. Paired with the rumpled shirt and stained jeans, Dean bet he made one helluva a picture for the shrink to psychoanalyze. Dean cleared his throat made raw by a steady intake of alcohol, "Let's hear it, doc."

Kevin warily eyed him before continuing, "Usually men that want that kind of control will seek out those which crave affection. Those types are easy to control, least likely to betray. The longer it goes on, the stronger the control. Ten years... that's a long time, Dean. You can't expect someone to snap out of that in just a few days. It takes time, therapy–"

Dean scoffed. Of course the shrink would think talking it out was the cure-all. He reached into the pocket of his beaten leather jacket to retrieve his flask. He took a long swig while Kevin watched.

"Is there.. something else you wanted to talk about.. ?"

Oh hell no.

"Maybe about how you feel about the bureau letting you go?"

Dean's nostril's flared, "How do you know about that?"

"I have colleagues in the system."

"It's none of your damn business."

"I understand," Kevin toned with schooled patience. "I'm simply offering to hear you out. It's completely confidential. What you say here in the office stays with me and me only."

What was there to say that Dean didn't already know for himself. He had started young, wanting to be a detective like his old man. He had busted his ass through school, did his time in uniform (all the while struggling to be a father and husband). His father had died while on case – Dean would bet money on the shrink wanting to point at that moment in his life to blame for the long line of mess ups in his life.

Dean had still managed to earn his badge.

From there he threw himself into his job to avoid Lisa and it wasn't long before Dean earned the notice of the bureau and they recruited him. He had such a promising career. He liked his job, loved it even, but like everything else in his life, he had to go and fuck it all up. He bent the rules, broke others, and basically played Russian Roulette with his own life and with the lives of others. He ended up racking up too many write ups. Over time he had become more liability than asset to the bureau. This thing with Lucifer had been his last chance.

Then there was Castiel...

"Nope, got nothing to talk about, doc. Just wanted your professional opinion."

Dean tucked his flask back into his jacket and took his leave. His drink was empty before he got half-way back to the motel. He was probably too drunk to even be drinking, but he made sure to stop at the liquor store to re-stock on his booze before pulling into the motel parking lot. The room was paid for until the end of the week. Dean still had a few days left before he had to start paying out of his own pocket. He didn't know where to go when that time came. The only place he could really go was back to Kansas and the house he co-owned with Lisa. The mere thought of dragging his sorry ass to the mid-west to stand at that threshold made him anxious for his next drink.

Dean rushed to get inside his room where he dumped his armful on the small table and pulled out the fresh bottle of Jameson. The seal on the cap broke with a satisfying _crick_ of metal breaking. He licked at his dry lips and moved to the kitchenette to fetch a glass. It was then, as a man in a black suit stood in his way, that Dean realized he wasn't alone.

His hand dropped to his waist out of the habit but he no longer had his sidearm. He had turned it in to Zachariah along with his badge. Shit.

"Hello, Dean."

Double shit.

Dean slowly turned around; another man stood near the bathroom, but the one that had spoken stood by the window. The late afternoon sun painted horizontal lines across his chest as he peered out the window into the parking lot. Lucifer, absolutely the last person Dean ever wanted to see again. Dean cleared his throat, "Don't suppose you boys want a drink."

He lifted the bottle in offering to each of the men. The two extras looked like body guards and did little but stare blankly at him. Dean shrugged, "Suit yourself."

Foregoing the glass, Dean plopped himself onto the bed, leaned up against the headboard, and flicked on the tv. Whiskey in one hand, remote in the other, Dean didn't give a damn about present comment.

"I thought the FBI would comp for better rooms."

"I get a little extra in the paycheck if I make some sacrifices – hey," Dean peered up at the man staring at him from the kitchen. "You mind not looking at me like you wanna take a bite? There's a KFC down the road if you're hungry. Seriously, you're giving me the willies and I'm trying to watch Dr. Sexy."

"Pst," Lucifer drew the attention of his guard dogs and with a small motion of head, sent them out of the room.

Dean kinda wished they hadn't left. He didn't want to be alone with Lucifer. A silence settled between them and Dean got in a good five minutes of his show before Lucifer came over to sit on the end of the bed. Dean couldn't keep his eyes from darting to the man.

"Is this the part where you thank me for totally screwing myself over in life, handing you a get out of jail free card and Castiel?"

"Interesting choice of décor," Lucifer idly commented while toeing an empty bottle on the floor.

Dean nervously glanced toward the box of Castiel's clothes. His eyes then fell to the shirt still rumpled near his pillow. Dean shoved it completely under the pillow while Lucifer was looking elsewhere. When the man's pale eyes began to wander back, Dean hastily took a sip of whiskey before gesturing dismissively at the room as a whole, "Room service has been a bit slow lately."

"Mm," Lucifer lazily took in the room, seeming to need the moment to gather his thoughts. "I left that shirt at Castiel's on purpose."

It took a few long moments for that information to sort through the liquor-soaked tumblers of Dean's thought process, "You knew there was blood on it."

"Just like I knew you would report me being at his apartment."

"You set him up," Dean rose with a growl. He began to loom toward Lucifer, ready to choke the living daylights out of the man. "You son of a bitch. He was fucking ready to go to hell for you - and you were the one that set him up."

"I had to," Lucifer's pale eyes lifted to meet Dean's murderous glare. "I needed to know you wouldn't throw him under the bus for the sake of your case."

Wait - what? Dean paused mid-step in his lurch, "Huh? I - what?"

"Don't get me wrong," Lucifer clasped his hands together, the picture of calm. ""I'm not happy about Castiel's choice.." Dean could feel the disgust in the passing glance Lucifer flicked over him. "But as much as I want to keep Castiel to myself, my.. work.. keeps us apart. I can't be there for him, even when I am around stuff like this happens." Lucifer softly chuckled, "It's difficult to take him out - dinner, a show - when the Feds are constantly tailing us. Castiel never really got over his shyness when in public."

Dean's head was spinning, he sat back down on the bed with a bounce, "I don't understand."

"And I don't understand what Castiel sees in you," Lucifer tsked. "In simpler terms, I had to make sure you would do right by Castiel."

It still wasn't sinking in, "You - you played this from the beginning?"

"No," Lucifer said with nonchalant shrug of shoulders. "You set up the pins, I just knew how to knock them down."

"You're psychotic, you know that?"

"I'm methodical, and I was looking out for Castiel."

"By setting him up!?"

"By making sure a good friend of mine doesn't get blindsided by a Fed looking to make a career off of him."

"Call it what you will," Dean snarled in defense. "But you're still a control freak."

Lucifer tilted his head side to side, his lips pursing in consideration, "Perhaps, but you seem to be missing the point where I am giving you my blessing to be with Castiel."

The remote hit the far wall before Dean realized he'd been the one to throw it, "I don't need your fucking blessings and I don't need _him_."

"Something tells me otherwise," Lucifer was looking toward the box of clothing; he hadn't so much as flinched from Dean's outburst. "Mostly the fact that you threw away everything to save him. You probably didn't even know if it would work, but you were willing to take the risk with the hope it would."

"Shut up."

"You did it even knowing Castiel was disappointed in you, no longer trusted you, and was loyal to me."

"I said _shut up!_"

"Mind your tone with me."

The frigid touch to Lucifer's tone sent chills down Dean's spine. A part of him wanted to push - push Lucifer until he snapped and put a bullet in his head. Dean thought about it, just as he thought about smashing the bottle of Jameson over Lucifer's head. But that would be a terrible waste of good whiskey. "Yeah, well, Cas doesn't want anything to do with me."

Lucifer was lightly shaking his head, "Are you always this difficult to talk to? Your means of deflection is very irritating."

Dean glowered while sipping from the bottle.

"What my–" Lucifer paused, pulling his lower lip through teeth. "What _Castiel _has, aside from an obvious patience for your attitude, is the unfaltering ability to forgive."

Dean didn't know what to say. He didn't have much else to throw but pillows. He doubted he would get his point across by starting a pillow fight. Although he was kind of tempted to do it just to see the indignation on Lucifer's face, which would probably last the couple of seconds it took for the goons outside to open fire through the window. Dean just wanted Lucifer to leave so that he could drink himself into another stupor and sleep in until noon tomorrow.

Lucifer stood and wiped off his pants as if just simply sitting in Dean's messy motel room had dirtied him, "You should shower."

Dean slumped against the head board and rumpled sheets while flatly regarding the blonde man over the rim of the bottle. Dean would shower when he damn well felt like it. "If it bothers you so much, there's the door. In simpler terms - _get out_."

"Should do it now or you'll be late," Lucifer chimed.

He couldn't let that go as much as he tried. Dean's jaw worked as he glared over at Lucifer, "Late for what?"

"Your flight."

"My.." Dean closed his eyes. "Do you enjoy being vague just to annoy people?"

"The way your face twists up as you try to keep from losing your composure is very entertaining," Lucifer smiled at Dean's very unamused expression then retrieved a folded envelope from his pocket to toss on the bed.

Dean hesitated before reaching for it, "What's this?"

"Your plane ticket."

The hell was with this guy? Dean unfolded the envelope and pulled out the ticket. His brows inched upward as he read, "To Tortola?" He continued reading, frowning at his name on the ticket. The departure time caught his attention, "It leaves in an hour."

Lucifer checked his watch before clicking his tongue, "I guess you'll have to skip the shower."

"What makes you think I'm going at all?"

"Because Castiel will be there."

"On the Virgin Islands."

"At the airport, actually, waiting to board. It only took him three days of living with my brother for him to decide he wanted to either kill Gabriel or leave the country to get away from him."

"And I'm going because..."

"Because he's prompt and has already been sitting at the airport for the last two hours waiting for me to show up. With an hour left he is likely getting nervous and beginning to think he's been left behind, abandoned.. "

"You - you! - How can you do that to him?"

Lucifer tilted his head with pensive thought written across his face, "I would tell you, but I doubt it would improve your mood."

"He thinks he's leaving with you. I can't just show up."

"Well no, you won't show up in time if you keep stalling," Lucifer shrugged. "Castiel didn't come back to me, not in the way you're thinking. He's lost his job, his apartment, and he's too scared to reach out to his friends because he doesn't want to cause trouble for them. He's hurt and he doesn't know what to do or where to go. I've always been the one to help him start over."

Dean shook his head in disbelief, his gaze lowering to the ticket. "Why.. ?"

Lucifer feigned a sigh and moved for the door. "Again, Dean, I just want what's best for Castiel." He paused half-way out the door. "Oh, I think this goes without saying, but if you hurt him, I will come after you."

Dean stared at the door long after Lucifer left. It was bullshit. It had to be. Lucifer just wanted to see if he'd jump for him, and Dean was done playing pawn to that blonde asshole. Dean flicked the plane ticket to the floor and took another swig of Jameson. If he never saw Lucifer or Castiel again it would be too soon. He didn't want anything to do with those people. _Ever_. Dean firmed his attention on the screen. Don't think about it, he told himself, he just had to wait out twenty more minutes and by then it would be too late.

Dean's heart lurched painfully, "Fuck."

He slipped gracelessly off the edge of the bed in his anxiousness to pick up the plane ticket. There wasn't any time to pack a bag - but not like Dean really planned to go to the Caribbean. He just wanted to catch Castiel before he left. After all, he needed to let Cas know where to get his stuff from storage and also hear what a manipulative bastard Lucifer was by setting up this whole thing.

Dean jumped into his car and revved her engine. The dash board clock was glaring at him, reminding him that his window of opportunity was fading, and fading fast. Dean fondly ran his hands over the steering wheel, "I'm sorry baby, this is going to be a rough. I hope you can forgive me."

The tires smoked as he peeled out of the parking lot.

* * *

_**Things to Know  
1.) **Dean has it bad for Castiel, but omg, resolution, finally!? Maybe!? Pray I don't twist it around again!?**  
2.) **My computer is on the fritz. I wrote this chapter in a notebook and slowly transferred it onto the computer. I was nearly in tears because my laptop has a ghost clicking problem and it's gotten really bad. I've been trying to fix the issue, but it looks like I will be sending in my laptop for a new screen. What does this mean for you - it means my updates are going to be stretched out. I wrote this chapter, and I'm going to finish the chapter for my other story, but I make no promises from there. I'll try my best. :(_  
_**3.)** How different did this chapter come out since I wrote it by hand instead of on the computer?_


	16. Desperation

**Part XVI  
Desperation**

Air fresheners were not meant to be used as deodorant, especially not little green cut outs resembling evergreen trees but possessing an overly pungent smell that was acid to Dean's nostrils. Dean regretted his decision to rub the green tree against the side of his neck almost immediately. It seemed like a good idea at the time, considering Dean hadn't had the time to shower off the stale rank of a his latest bender, but the overpowering scent of artificial pine was worsening his already pounding headache.

The Impala jerked to the side as the wheels bumped over another curb Dean illegally drove over to get around slower traffic. The suspension creaked noisily and Dean winced as she leveled back out. He would have to give her some serious TLC when the day was over.

"Bear with me a little longer, baby."

Dean squinted at the street signs, searching for the tell-tale picture of an airplane and an arrow pointing the way. He had a general idea of where the airport was located, but he had never personally driven there. When he was on a case he drove where he needed to be, even if it was across a few state lines. The agency never seemed to mind – mainly because they didn't _know_ that he refused to fly. As long as he got the information they wanted within a certain time frame, they were willing to turn a blind eye to Dean's minor quirks.

Spotting the sign he needed, Dean made a quick lane change that incited a blare of angry horn from the guy he'd just cut off. Dean lifted a hand in apology as he sharply turned onto the adjacent street. Sorry dude, but he was running out of time and he didn't even have a damn clue where he was supposed to find Castiel! He reached for the ticket lying on the passenger seat. Gate, what gate? Dean's eyes poured over the ticket, then flicked to the dashboard clock, then to the line of tail lights ahead of him. Dean swore colorfully as he slammed on the brakes. The drive up to the terminal was jam-packed with shuttle buses, rental cars, and people like himself that didn't have a damn clue how airport parking worked.

Another minute ticked away.

Dean eyed the no parking zone clearly hashed in yellow along the sidewalk. Other cars were using it as a drop off point. Dean contemplated the spot while chewing over his lip. "Baby," God he loved that car. It was the only constant in his life. Dean squeezed the steering wheel. "I'm sorry. I promise, if they so much as scratch your paint I will break each and every one of their fingers."

It was so much easier expression his feelings to an inanimate object.

"I'm not abandoning you," Dean pulled in next to the sidewalk; the Impala's tires striking boldly against the yellow lines of warning. If he was lucky the tow truck would be held up by traffic and the most Dean would get is a hefty parking ticket.

Dean made sure to grab his credentials from the glove box, lock the doors, before sprinting inside. Noise hit him from all sides. Bodies and wheeled luggage swarmed every which way he looked. There were flat screen televisions mounted along the walls and lines of people sprawling across the floor for baggage checks. Dean's head was spinning and it wasn't from the booze – at least not all of it. There was no blinking neon sign pointing him in the right direction. No signs marked clearly for him: Go this way if you're a pathetic sap.

"Hey, excuse me-" Dean caught the arm of a passing woman. By the wide-eye stare he earned, Dean guessed he wasn't looking very pretty, or the musk of pine green was worse than his bad body order. Maybe a little bit of both. "How do I get to.. " He checked his ticket. "Gate G7?"

The bewildered lady looked around before pointing out a direction. Dean quickly took off toward the escalators despite the woman's call that he needed to check in first. He didn't have time for that crap. Security, of course, had other plans for him – particularly in the form of a mile long line being herded along by thing strips of black rope.

No, no, no.. !

Dean checked his watch. If he still had his badge he probably could have skipped on through without a hitch. Shit, had he come this far, left his poor baby to the mercy of an unscrupulous tower, just to be thwarted by the TSA? No, Dean Winchester doesn't just roll over. Okay, he had a mild set back with the lapse filled with copious amounts of drinking, but he wasn't beaten yet. Dean rolled his shoulders as he mentally psyched himself. He could do this; no pussy footing it.

Dean began to force his way up the line. Most people gaped at him. It was one of those rules that was ground into people at a young age. Don't cut in line, especially in the hot lunch line on pizza Friday. A person who cut in line instantly became ostracized by the rest of the line. It unified the people against the offender, and Dean was certain the glares following him were reaching lynching levels.

"Hey!"

One man grabbed him by the arm and Dean only just held back the urge to smash in the guy's face. He stared at the man's pinched expression, then down at the hand fastened around his forearm. The stranger puffed up, "You can wait in line like everyone else."

Dean shook off the grip and firmly pressed his lips together. He took in the line behind him and the people still ahead of him. He was getting a lot of looks, including wary ones from the security. It would detour him further if he got escorted out, but he couldn't wait at the back of the line. He didn't have the time!

Dean once again checked his watch. "Look man, my flight leaves in ten minutes. I can't be late, someone is waiting for me. I need.. please man, I'm sorry, but I need this."

"You should have gotten here earlier like the rest of us."

Dean's fingers began to curl into fists as his self-control waned.

"Oh give it a rest," A lady interrupted. "Son, you can get in ahead of me. One person isn't going to change how fast we get through."

Dean jumped into line while rambling a long-winded thanks to the woman. She patted his arm, commenting about it not being wise to stop a man in love. Dean flashed a nervous smile as she went on further to say the girl must be a lucky one.

It wasn't like that, Dean wanted to explain, but he also wanted to avoid the topic all together. He concentrated his attention on the slow shuffle of feet toward the metal doorway (and some kind of crazy air chamber) that signified his freedom. The pace was agonizing. It made him want to scream. The minutes continued to tick by at an even faster rate. Why was it time dragged on when he was bored, but escaped him when he needed it most.

As he filled the blue tub with his shoes and the contents of his pockets, Dean realized he had forgotten his phone. If only he had paused to think things through he could have called Castiel from the beginning. That is if Castiel would have even accept his call. Shit, he hadn't even thought about how Castiel would react upon seeing him there. Now that the doubtful thought crossed Dean's mind, he suddenly found himself frozen on the spot.

The room around him spun, brightening to a blinding radiance before narrowing to a tiny black tunnel. Dean's fingers tightened around the plastic tub he had set on the roller bars. People were waiting expectantly on him but Dean couldn't move. What was he doing here? All this time he was acting on impulse and right then it felt like he'd been fueled on insanity.

"Honey," It was the woman who allowed him to cut in line. "It'll be fine, don't lose hope."

Dean stared at her, wondering what good deed he had done in life to have this positive, encouraging force in his life. She was an angel placed there to steer him back toward the light. It was a gentle hand urging him forward. Dean nodded, took a deep breath and moved through the metal frame. Then it was through the gas chamber _thing._ Dean held in his breath as it scanned him and he prayed the mix of booze and pine didn't set off alarms.

He was clear and free on the other side without incident.

Dean awkwardly shoved his feet back into his shoes as he rushed toward the gates. He was late by five minutes, but it always took longer to board than that. Or so Dean told himself. His knowledge was based off of stories from co-workers; mainly the complaints of having to stand 'forever' in line, or in their seats while the plane boarded.

Section 7 of G was empty.

Dean double-checked his ticket and the time of departure. His green eyes swept over the empty row of seats around the gate before landing on the flight attendant stationed near the boarding terminal. Dean was on her within seconds, waving his ticket and trying to express the urgent need to be allowed on the plane.

The language he'd chosen in his panic must have been a dialect of Neanderthal with a touch of crazy because the woman's eyes widen to the size of golf balls. Oh come on! What was with people and their frail sensibilities today? Dean didn't have time to tip toe through the god damn eggshells!

Slipping around the woman, Dean made for the terminal. He had his hand around the door handle by the time the woman responded. Her small hands impacted the door above Dean's grasp. "Sir! You can't!"

"Move."

"You need to go sit down or I will-"

"I said move!" Dean roared as he forced the door open despite the woman's fight to keep it closed. He heard the crackle of her radio as she called for security. Dean didn't care. He didn't have much more to lose at this point. He'd already left his dignity somewhere back at the motel.

Dean made it all of ten feet before he came to a screeching halt. Ahead of him the terminal ended and dropped a straight dozen feet or more to the empty tarmac. The was no plane to board. Dean had missed it – by five minutes! – how was that even possible!?

Ugh, this was just what Lucifer wanted – for him to run around like a headless chicken. Well done asshole, Dean toasted the empty air, well done.

Dean wouldn't be able to get drunk fast enough to escape the crushing defeat currently smashing in his head. Yet there was a numbness present even while semi-sober. A seeping cold that shielded him from the fact he was falling apart piece by pathetic piece. The last shred of his 'give a fuck' pulverized. It was never going to happen again. He was never going to allow someone to get close to him (even accidentally!)

"Dean?"

It was strange how the world around him had faded into a distant static of an untuned radio despite the chaos unfolding around him. The airport was a bustling collection of ambient noises, and as Dean wandered aimlessly back into the boarding area, the woman was still yammering at full speed to a hand held radio while her hand was flapping in attempt to catch the attention of someone in the distance. There were lookers pausing to gawk and whisper. Yet the only thing that had the power to cut through the commotion and reach Dean was that one particularly unforgettable voice.

His green eyes lifted to seek out a familiar face. He was closing the distance before even taking all of Castiel in – coffee in one hand, luggage handle in the other, and in a damn trench coat. Dean smirked, of course Castiel would be the awkward type to look like he was going on a business trip when flying to the Caribbean.

"Dean, what are you doing here?"

The question stopped him a couple feet short of whisking Castiel up in his arms and waltzing across the airport. "Uh," that was always a strong opener. Dean rubbed at the short hairs along the back of his neck as he fumbled his answer, "What are _you_ doing here? I thought your plane boarded ten minutes ago."

"It's been delayed by an hour," Castiel gestured toward the marque near the terminal Dean had previously busted through without taking the precious few seconds to stop, look, and read.

"Oh," Because what else could he say other than regale Castiel with the pathetic tale of his scramble to arrive on time. Dean wanted to blame it on Lucifer, believing the man was so devious at his puppet show to make Dean once again fall flat on his face while the audience roared with laughter.

An awkward silence hung between them. Castiel mirrored some of Dean's nervous posture, and neither man met the other's gaze for long. Castiel looked right while Dean looked left. There was so much that Dean wanted to say. He could feel it building up and filling the space between them. It was suffocating and Castiel had to be able to feel it as well. There was an elephant jammed between them but neither man uttered a single word.

_I'm here to see you._

_I'm here to stop you from leaving._

_I'm here to go with you._

_I'm here to tell you I'm sorry._

Dean couldn't say any of it. He couldn't even turn his eyes to Castiel, like they were two opposing magnets repelling each other. The force was too great to overcome for more than a brief second. Even when Castiel's feet shuffled and he began to edge away, Dean couldn't do more than shift his weight. Castiel was passing him by with that stupid carry on wheeling behind him. Dean's fingers flexed once, twice, then he seized a fistful of Castiel's trench and pulled the man close. He was desperate and the sloppy kiss he planted on Castiel's lips expressed as much.

When he broke away from a stunned Castiel, his hands were still gripping the lapels of his trench. "I want to change."

Dean wasn't sure why, out of everything he thought to say, some other garbage came out. "I fucked up. My life is a series of fuck ups and meeting you has made me realize I want to change that pattern."

Was he even making sense? What had it been that Castiel had said to him, "I'm ready for something different. I want.. I want.. you – want what we could have together."

"Dean.."

"I'm serious, Cas. I know I've deceived you in the past," Dean sank to his knees with hands sliding down to hold either side of Castiel's waist. "But look at me."

Castiel was having a hard time not turning a brilliant shade of red at Dean's theatrics. Dean would probably be embarrassed for himself once he was more sober. At the moment he was utterly oblivious to the gawkers around them. Castiel was the only one that existed for him in that moment.

"I'm not lying to you," He openly met Castiel's gaze, willing the other man to see the truth in his eyes. Dean nearly blurted out the little tidbit about the box of clothes back at his motel room. It struck him as so ridiculous and embarrassing that it could only be true Castiel had to believe him – it would have been too pathetic to be a lie.

Dean managed to keep that last shred of his dignity in tack.

"Dean.." By Castiel's tone alone, Dean knew he hadn't convinced the other man. ".. you've been drinking."

His heart sank, but in its place his temper soared. "This isn't a drunken ramble! Yes. Yes I've – " noticing the way his hands had balled in the fabric of Castiel's trench, Dean released the coat and sat back on his heels with his hands falling limply into his lap. "Yes I have been drinking, but this is something that's been in the works for a while. I just.. just.. "

He stared helplessly down at his empty hands.

"Fashionably late."

Dean's gaze flicked up to Castiel's for clarification.

"I believe it is your nature to be.. fashionably late."

The ex-agent braved a crooked smile, clinging to the hope that Castiel's comment was a good sign. It was better than being called a spineless coward. Feelings had that effect on Dean – where he turned and ran blindly in the other direction instead of confronting said feelings.

"What can I say," Dean shrugged and tried to embrace the reprieve of the moment. "I like to make an entrance."

Dean regretted his attempt at a casual joke as soon as it passed his lips. Castiel's brows were edging upward and Dean quickly replayed the elements of his dramatic entrance. Disheveled, reeking of booze and gas store pine, and fallen desperately to his knees. Dean quickly climbed to his feet. The silence once again began to creep in between them. Dean coughed to expel it, "So, uh, where does this put us?"

Castiel was noticeably conflicted as his gaze strayed.

Dean felt a hot stab of anger knife through his chest. "He's not coming."

Once a cop, always a cop. Dean was observant, so he noticed the way Castiel's finger tightened on the plastic handle of the carry-on. His expression remained pensive, but his hands had already given away his guilty reaction. "Lucifer."

At least he didn't feign innocence and ask about who Dean meant. In fact the name was toned with a note of resignation. The next moment he was sinking into once of the nearby chairs. Dean awkwardly sat next to him, folding his hands into his lap and waited for the conclusion. Honestly he felt let down by the whole thing. Apparently he'd been holding on to the hope that he could take Castiel into his arms and all the woes could be forgotten by a period of extensive lip-locking.

Castiel's hands cycled through the motions of rubbing the fabric over his knees, threading through his dark hair, and clasping together beneath his chin. Then minutes ticked by before Castiel spoke, "I'm sorry."

His head bowed between his hands until his fingers covered the back of his skull, "Sorry I got you into all this."

"To be fair, I was assigned to the case to become involved.." Dean just didn't anticipate how far he'd fall into that rabbit hole. Tentatively he reached over to brush his fingers over Castiel's hand and hair.

Castiel suddenly sat upright, a frenzy igniting around him. "But you lost your job!"

How did Castiel know that? And how much did Castiel know? Did Lucifer tell him about the disappearing evidence? It would save Dean from blundering over a tender moment. Considering that Castiel wasn't looking at him in awe, Dean doubted Castiel knew the full truth.

"It's just a job," Dean licked his lips before braving forward, "And I didn't want to lose you." Well, he still did, but at least Castiel wasn't in prison.

Castiel had quickly simmered back down. He shyly peeked side-long at Dean, "Do you mean it?"

"Yeah," Dean paused to back-track through everything he'd said to Castiel thus far just to be sure he hadn't slipped into a lie somewhere. It was an occupational hazard Dean had been trained to lie on pure reflex. He nodded with reassurance, "Yeah."

"You want to do this?"

"I want to do a lot of things, " Dean hinted suggestively – far more comfortable with innuendo than being made to feel vulnerable by expression his feelings in a non-sexual context.

Castiel's gaze retreated to the floor, but there was no hiding the pink tinge on his cheeks.

"I even have _this_.. " Dean procured the ticket Lucifer had given him. He showed it to Castiel.

Puzzlement drew Castiel into an upright position. His deep blue eyes moved slowly from the ticket to Dean's face. "You're.. "

"Going to puke my guts out on a plane ride to the Caribbean," See, he always had to kill a special moment. Nothing said sexy like mentioning vomit. "Well, that is if you are still going. There is no way in hell I am going without you."

Dean was gradually learning that Castiel was a very pragmatic sort. He could take himself out of the moment, away from all the tugging and tearing of emotions. He would sit in silence and heavily weight the situation between his hands. It wasn't just pros and cons he debated. Castiel twisted and turned the ordeal around like a crystal to the sun until the right angle was discovered – the one that cast the most dazzling rainbows across the room.

"If we go," Castiel carefully picked over his words. "We would be staying at a house owned by Lucifer, using his money.."

That did wretch at his heart, but instead of riding out the emotion roller coaster, Dean attempted to take his own moment outside of time. "Why not?"

It was tiring to fight against a force that was beyond his control. Dean though he'd feel defeat, yet by letting go of his anger, Dean felt relieved he could work over this trip-up if he simply tried instead of smashing it against the floor like an angry toddler. "Why the hell not – let the twisted bastard pay for everything. I'll have extra shots on him. We'll live it up to the fullest and he can foot the bill."

A smile, part amused and part pain, flitted across Castiel's features. Dean latched on to the moment. He reached over to take Castiel's hand, tugging it over to his side while seeking eye contact, "He can buy me a whole new wardrobe, because other than my birthday suit, what you see is all I brought."

Castiel actually swept his eyes over Dean's rumpled clothes.

Dean snorted, "Don't judge, you don't exactly look like you're ready to go out on the beach yourself."

Castiel grimaced, "I've never been to the beach."

Odd, Dean would have figured this little island getaway was a common escape route for Castiel and Lucifer. Did Lucifer bring Castiel along and lock him in a room? Dean chucked that particular line of thought aside because he decided he would rather not know. He gave Castiel's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Then we'll be sure to buy you a speedo. A bright yellow banana hammock."

The color drained from Castiel's mortified features and Dean couldn't help but bust out laughing. After a moment Castiel gave him an uncertain smile. It isn't until the boarding announcement that Dean gets himself back under control. It came as a cold wash of fear as people began to herd toward the terminal. Fear gripped him tight and he wasn't even on the plane yet.

"Dean?"

"I have a fear of flying," He blurted and sought out Castiel's gaze for support.

For a long time Castiel just stared at him, then, words failing him, he reached over to squeeze Dean's hand. It was a small comfort, and Dean took it for what it was worth. He wrapped both hands around Castiel's. His fingers tightened on their own accord, trapping Castiel next to him.

"There's something else you should know," He prattled on in his nervousness.

Castiel patiently watched him.

Dean shifted in his seat, darting glances between Castiel's face and the line of boarding passengers. He just wanted to be honest – get as close to a full closure as possible before he stepped a foot on that plane and his life was completely sent down an unfamiliar path. It was the last bump he could see with his limited foresight. One last thing that might get in the way of the possibility of a shared future. Dean swallowed, before uttering in a voice no higher than a whisper.

"I'm married."

* * *

_**Things to know:  
1.) **I have a new laptop. You can thank mhmellie for making me get off my arse and write up this chapter after such a long absence._  
_**2.)** Dean really did have this inner delusion of showing up and sweeping Castiel into his arm and they would make out for half an hour._  
_**3.) **Incoming Fluff._


	17. Start

_Every time I go to update, I'm paranoid that something will go wrong. This chapter apparently disappeared. How Lovely._

**Part XVII  
Start**

"Does cologne go bad?"

Dean forced his eyes open, schooling his face into the best 'I'm totally in control' expression he could muster and turned his head to peer at Castiel seated next to him. Castiel had the aisle while Dean had the window, and despite the plane still being very much on the ground, Dean had already pushed down the shade to block the view. His eyes flicked from Castiel's curious blues to the people still maneuvering to their purchased seats. The question lacked context, and Dean was still waiting for Castiel to ask about his married status. The other man had been unnervingly silent since Dean had blurted out the truth about his estranged wife.

"I don't think so, why-" He lowered his voice to an amused whisper, "-get a big whiff of the axe effect?"

"Is that a brand?"

"Yeah," Dean eyed a potential teenager that might have over-dosed on the deodorant spray.

"Are you wearing it?"

Dean choked and slowly leaned away from Castiel as he was reminded of his air freshener rub down. He slumped into his seat while picking at shirt. "Uh, no. I uhm... haven't done laundry in a while.. this shirt is just… dirty."

"It smells awful."

"Yes!" Dean blurted as his hands shot upward. A few patrons glanced his way and Dean shrank back down. "Yes, I know, I stink. You have permission to throw me in the ocean when we land."

Ten minutes passed without any further conversation. The rapid tapping of Dean's fingertips against the armrest kept time as passengers found their seats. The stewardess walked the aisle and when the seatbelt sign went on, Dean was quick to cinch it tight around his waist. The laminated safety guide tucked in the back of the seat in front of him caught his attention. His eyes swept over the beginning phrase of '_In case of..'_ before his stomach twisted unpleasantly. He looked away.

"So," He needed something, anything, to occupy his mind from the upcoming flight. "You haven't said anything about it... "

Castiel spared him an inquisitive glance.

"About me being married."

Castiel looked away, but Dean could see the way his jaw tightened. He wetted his lips before speaking evenly, "I don't know how you expect me to respond to that."

"For starters, be angry." Dean's attempt at a smile was weak.

"I am angry - at myself."

"Cas," Dean sighed while he leaned toward the other man. "Don't blame yourself, be angry at me for not telling you sooner."

"I thought you wanted to start something new with me. Admitting that you are married suggest this is just a lapse in your vows, a fling-"

"Whoa, hold up," Dean lifted his hands in defense. "Lisa and I, we're basically separated. It's just been complicated because of our son."

Castiel's head rolled back as the man sagged dejectedly against his seat.

"Right. Fuck - let me start from the beginning?" Dean waited until Castiel acknowledged him with a look before continuing. "Lisa and I hooked up Senior year in High School. We weren't even dating. It was just a casual fling. Anyway, it only lasted a week, but a month later she comes up to me and tells me she's missed her period. I thought she meant she had missed class, so me being the idiot I am, told her she could probably get notes from this buddy of mine. So she grabs my arm, gets this scary look on her face and tells me 'No, Dean, I'm _late_. I missed my _period._'"

Dean rubbed ruefully at his jaw, "I was so scared. The rest of the day passed in a blur. When I got home, my dad asked me what was wrong and I just blurted it out. 'Lisa's pregnant.'. My dad was.. livid. He gave me this long speech about how I was going to step up and take responsibility for my actions, or so help him god he was going to shove his foot so far up my ass that I'd be tongue-tying his shoelaces.

"So I thought it was only right that we get married and... it was hell, Cas. I tried, I really did, but nothing I did was ever good enough. At one point my CO switched me to the late shift and Lisa instantly started accusing me of cheating when I started coming home late. No amount of explaining would calm her, it's like she just wanted to find a reason to be angry at me. And for a long time I accepted that. I mean it was partially my fault that I had.. ruined her life."

It was stupid, he told himself, but he still felt guilty about how the way things had played out. If only he had the sensibility to use protection all the times they had been together, none of it would have happened. On the other hand, he loved Ben. Children were this magical part of life - so young, pure, and Dean couldn't help but feel he wanted to do anything and everything to make sure his son had the best in life. His own life may have gotten screwed up, but.. he wanted to do right by Ben.

Instead he'd been stupid - again.

"After a while, years really, I kind of had a break down and I did end up cheating on her as petty revenge."

Castiel patiently listened while wearing a pensive frown.

"In the end we finally agreed that it wasn't meant to be.. but, she's worried about how Ben will take it. She thinks that he'll blame himself for us splitting apart so we've been kinda.. pretending everything is alright. I didn't push it because I just wanted to get out of there. I wanted to ignore it, thinking it would just go away. And in a way it did, I buried myself so deep into my work that I never had time to think about it."

"Until now."

Dean swallowed, "Yeah, until now."

"It's not fair for me to judge you for your... baggage. You already know a great deal of my own, and I know it hasn't been easy for you to come to terms with it."

Dean wasn't sure how to translate Castiel's response. On one had it sounded like Castiel _was_ judging him, but trying to do the noble thing by turning the other cheek. Lucifer had mentioned something about Castiel being a very forgiving person. Dean decided it was best not to argue against it, because in the end he really did want a chance to prove himself to the man seated next to him. Castiel gave him the reason for him to finalize the separation with Lisa. The marriage, even if a farce, had been the buffer Dean needed to keep himself from getting serious with another person. He wanted to change - he didn't want to be that person anymore.

"Actually," Dean shifted in his seat, leaning toward Castiel and dropping his voice to ensure the privacy of their conversation. "There still is one thing about your past that bothers me."

Castiel bite down on the inside of his lower lip.

"Your criminal record."

Castiel's gaze darted away, "What about it?"

"It's non-existent."

"Isn't that considered a good thing?"

"Yeah," Dean acceded with a nod, "But it's really _strange._"

"In what way, exactly."

"How does a guy be involved with a criminal like Lucifer, for over a decade, and _not_ have a rapsheet? You told me before, when I was bringing you in, that it wasn't your first time in handcuffs."

"That is a conundrum," Castiel murmured while avoiding Dean's gaze.

It was a wonder how Castiel ever managed to keep a secret. His guilty conscious was written plainly in his body language. The Feds would have been all over Castiel in a heartbeat if this were an interrogation. Yet taking into consideration that charges had never been filed against Castiel, at least until recently due to Dean, suggested the spot light had never landed on Castiel. It was inconsistent with the way these investigations worked. The bureau knew about Castiel all this time, but somehow - wait. "Did Michael keep your record clean?"

"Michael?" Castiel showed the first signs of life at the mention of his brother's name. "As if he would do something like that and compromise his precious career. "

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Dean distinctly remembered Michael's subtle hints about making evidence mysteriously disappear.

"Besides," Castiel pinned him with a puzzled expression before sighing, " He wasn't even in the bureau when I first got in trouble with Lucifer. It wasn't Michael."

"So someone did take a sponge to it." Seeing the way Castiel nervously glance around the plane, Dean chuckled. "Considering what Lucifer has done-"

"-allegedly done-"

"-already, keeping your record clean comes as no big surprise."

"It wasn't him."

Dean slowly blinked, his attention honing sharply onto Castiel. "I'm sorry, what?"

Castiel closed his eyes as her carefully repeated himself, "It wasn't him."

"You can go ahead and tell me who then, it's not likely to surprise me."

Dean noted Castiel's annoyed glare, but stubbornly refused to let the topic drop. If he could sit there and re-live the tragic tale of his young love, then Castiel could admit to one little crime. Castiel maintained the serious look as his tone dropped in volume, increasing the graveled quality much to Dean's chagrin. The guy had such a phone sex voice and didn't even realize it. "This has to remain off record, Agent Winchester."

Grinning, Dean arched a brow before lifting up his shirt to expose his bare torso. "I'm not wearing a wire, Cas."

Blue eyes dropped to Dean's chest, and for a moment the former agent was certain he had completely derailed the man's train of thought. It took an extended moment before Castiel again spoke, "Charlie did it."

"And who's he?"

"She, Dean. Charlie is a _she_."

"Alright so who is-" When it clicked, Dean's eyes widened. "The tech girl, your friend, _that_ Charlie?"

"We met in college. When she got the job here, she wanted me to apply... and stupidly I hadn't realized until that point that it was unlikely I would ever be hired by a department because, yes, I have been in handcuffs before because of Lucifer's dealings. I confessed as much to her and... she said she would help me."

"I'll be damned..."

"You can't say anything. "

Dean lifted his hands to show his sincerity, "I won't, Cas, I promise. She seems like a good friend to you."

"She is."

"She threw a latte in my face in your honor." Dean was certain he saw Castiel smile.

Of course - and by that Dean meant he felt that his life was always doomed to a rough and bumpy road because whenever things felt like they were smoothing out, his life swung around a hairpin turn or hit an unnoticed speed bump - of course right as Dean's lips pulled into a mirroring smile and he thought things were finally settling between Castiel and himself, the airplane began to move.

His fingers dug into the armrests and he shoved his body against the seat cushion. His anxiety only worsened as the jet prepared for takeoff. The engines were roaring and Dean attempted to hum loudly to himself to drown out the sound. Having watched his fair share of television and the latest movies, Dean's imagination had a plethora of fuel to keep supplying him with images of the engine catching fire, or another plane cutting off one of the wings, or just a hole tearing open in the cabin and sucking out people as they clung uselessly to their seats.

Castiel was trying to coax him into a conversation, but all Dean can do his jerk his head side to side and mutter about being fine. Obviously the cold sweat that was starting to drench his shirt said otherwise. When the plane hit a bit of turbulence, Dean's jaw began to quiver as it became an effort to keep himself fully silent.

Then there were lips.

Dean's eyes shot open to find that Castiel was unbuckled and had leaned over to softly kiss the side of his neck, "Cas?"

"There you are," Castiel's breath was warm against Dean's neck, and the ex-agent felt a hand curling over the one he had death gripping the armrest. "You weren't responding to your name, I thought this approach would yield better results."

"You have my attention," Dean murmured. He swallowed thickly when he again felt the feather-light brush of Castiel's lips against his skin. Quite suddenly the images of plane wrecks was replaced with heated images of pressing Castiel against the nearest solid object. His hand released the abused armrest and settled instead on Castiel's thigh. He brushed his fingers along the inside seam of Castiel's pants, but before his touch could wander too far, Castiel pushed his hand away.

Dean chuckled, "You ever hear of the mile-high club?"

"No, what are the benefits?"

"It's uh... " Again he laughed as his body further relaxed. "Nevermind, but if anyone else offers to show you, you say no, capiche?"

"Is it a scam?"

Dean's green eyes shimmered with repressed mirth as he took in Castiel's oblivious expression. It was too freaking adorable, and damn if it didn't fill Dean with such a happy-go-lucky feeling. He captured Castiel's lips in a quick kiss, "It's just not something you want to do without me."

"Understood."

The rest of the flight went by more smoothly. Whenever Dean became anxious, Castiel would soothe his frazzled nerves with a well placed touch. Conversation was kept simple. Dean couldn't really focus on any one topic while cruising at 40,000 feet. His train of thought kept derailing with images of immediate doom via engine failure followed by a fatal nose dive during which he'd spend screaming his head off.

Dean had never been so happy to see the inside of another airport.

Wisely he refrained from throwing himself on the floor and kissing the tight weave carpet.

He was riding on cloud nine all the way out on to the warm streets. Dean spread his arms wide to the sun and slowly spun in a circle.

Castiel made a choking sound, grabbed Dean's wrist and gently forced him to lower his arm. Apparently his body odor was reaching horrific levels. It wasn't twenty minutes later that Dean was swapping shirts with one he bought from a street vendor. The second priority (and it was only by Castiel's insistence that the shirt was the first problem in need of fixing) was a long distance phone call back to the states.

"Hey, Sammy."

_"Dean? Wow, I didn't think I'd be hearing from you again. Why are you calling me collect?"_

"Yeah, about that, I'm kinda... away."

_"Away... on a case?"_

"Yes - no, I mean no. Do you think you could do me a favor?"

_"... I guess, what's up?"_

"I left my car parked at the airport... actually it's probably been towed by now. If I over night you the keys, do you think you could go pick it up for me - I'll pay you back."

_"Sure, need an address?"_

"Yeah, uh... " Dean turned away from the keypad to look for Castiel. He stood just a few feet away, furrowed brow pouring over a map he'd purchased when Dean had gotten the shirt. He looked passed the point of lost, he was even more out of place wearing that silly trench coat in the heat. Dean chuckled, "You are so frick'n adorable."

_"... uh, thanks, I guess."_

"Not you, Sam," Dean felt his cheeks burn as he frantically snapped his fingers at Castiel in order to get the guy's attention. Castiel looked at him, confused, and drew near. In one swift motion, Dean grabbed the lapel of Castiel's coat and tugged him to fit in the tight space between him and the pay phone. He gave no form of explanation, enjoying the fluster and confusion mixing in Castiel's expression. Dean pushed a little closer, wedging a leg in between Castiel's, and forcing the smaller man back far enough that the keypad was caught a couple of times - serenading both Dean and Sam's ear with horrible dial-tone screeches.

"Sorry about that, Sammy," Dean slipped a hand into Castiel's trench, dug a hand into the breast pocket and pulled out a pen. He tapped the end off of Castiel's nose with a smirk. "What's the address?"

As Sam relayed the numbers, Dean loosened Castiel's tie and casually popped the top button of his dress shirt.

"Dean, what are you-"

The pen was pushed to Castiel's lips to silence him, "Sorry Sam, could you repeat that?"

Dean carefully wrote the address over Castiel's collar bone. Castiel glared at him the whole while, which Dean found far too cute. "Thanks Sam, you're like a brother. I'll owe you big for this."

He hung up, which left Castiel momentarily tangled in the cord. He ended up knocking the phone off the hook in his attempt to escape while also trying to fix his shirt. He tried to glance at what was written on his skin, "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Absolutely," Dean casually twirled the pen between his fingers. "So where to next, you want to hit up the beach?"

Castiel glanced toward the horizon, "I don't think that would be a wise decision."

"Are you telling me you don't want me strip you naked?"

The sight of Castiel gaping at him was priceless.

It took a moment for Castiel to recovered. He cleared his throat before gesturing toward the horizon. Dean turned just in time to see lightning flash over the ocean. The dark clouds moving in toward land certainly put a damper on any beach plans. It didn't stop Dean from grinning ear-to-ear. "So, how about that place you mentioned where we'll be staying?"

* * *

**Stop**

_A minor update with a dash of fluffiness before a final chapter. Dean did mention he was married earlier in the story, but it's been a while and thus easily forgotten. Yes, I did say a final chapter was coming. It wouldn't be difficult to keep the story going on and on, but I feel this story has run its course. There are more stories out there to be written - cast your vote now if you have a suggestion for me to write?  
_


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